Hrist
by 100-series
Summary: Hrist's journey is once again side-tracked, this time by a nefarious mage, and not the one you're probably thinking of. Aeila's fate which lies in the balance.
1. Artolian Prologue

**Valkyrie Profile: Hrist**  
by 100-series (who does not own the rights or make any profit off of this work, by the way).

**Author's Notes:**  
Hello, this is my first Valkyrie Profile fanfiction. The title is not very creative, but I figured Lenneth, Silmeria... Hrist should get a turn. I don't use beta readers, but if you would like to volunteer, please email me. Otherwise, I'm grateful if you would point out any errors you see in a review (just be gentle, I have low self-esteem, haha).  
Special thanks to Kait, who proofread the first two chapters even though she has never even played Valkyrie Profile. Hugs for you!

**Synopsis:**  
Hundreds of years after the events of Valkyrie Profile: Silmeria, in the time of Lenneth, time has been altered. This new world ruled by a fair king of the gods and plagued only by the nature of mankind exists alongside an alternate timeline in which Lenneth Valkyrie searches for her Einherjar. This world's valkyrie is Hrist, whose mission is to gather Einherjar for the battle to decide the fate of the world, while uncovering the mystery of her sister's absence in this altered world.

**Warnings:**  
Spoilers for Valkyrie Profile Lenneth and Silmeria may be included in later chapters.  
Playing both games is probably a good thing if you are going to read this fic, but it isn't a prerequisite.  
No sex or heavy violence should be in this, but it is rated "T" just in case. Sexual humor occurs with anything where Lezard or Mystina is present, after all.  
Pairings... well, you will have to wait and see, but mainly those that are canon or insinuated by canon.

**Chapter One: Artolian Prologue **

(1)

_How utterly boring..._

Jelanda stared at her reflection as three of her hand-maidens busily performed their tasks to ready her for the day. Each morning the only difference was the color of the ribbons in her hair, or the style of the dress she wore, and yet these practiced hands still took a full hour to dress her properly.

"Too tight! I can hardly breathe!" she barked at the maids at her feet and stomped one heel for good measure. The price of the stool that she stood upon could likely feed each of their families for a year, but she brought her foot down upon it without bothering to consider that fact. "Just lace it up without pulling so hard, no one will no the difference!"

"If milady orders," one of the three maids replied sheepishly as her hands began to shake. Jelanda wondered why she was so frightened. Did they really think that someone would have them all executed if her corset wasn't tied properly? Why did they all treat her like some kind of monster? Despite wondering that, Jelanda continued to screech at them to hurry. It was not as if there were anything pressing for her to attend to; she just hated standing on this stool.

After what felt like years, she was finally presentable. Nearly toppling two of the maids on her way, she darted out of the room and ran all the way to the audience hall in a manner that was not what anyone would consider fit for a princess, but Jelanda didn't care. No one dared scold her except for her father, the king.

(2)

The audience chamber was never particularly interesting, and today looked to be more of the same. The tables kept filled with delicate foods for worthy visitors were never of any special interest to Jelanda. So tired of luxurious foods was she that it might have well have been mud. There were warriors present and men of state, but none of their lavish costumes struck her fancy. Only her father's familiar figure upon the throne won her attention, that is, until _she_ came into the room.

She was a warrior, the only female light warrior that Jelanda had ever seen in the castle. She wasn't sure of her the woman's age, but she would assume that such a young woman couldn't be a master of the sword like _she_ claimed to be. She had to have gotten this far by her beauty, charming her commanders--had to be that. She was an obnoxious trollop dressed in decorative violet fighting attire. Even her armor was curvaceous. Jelanda envied her thick black hair, full red lips, and hourglass figure; but would sooner pry off her own fingernails than admit that the woman before her was beautiful.

The lady warrior was always respectful and humble, taking her place among her male peers. Her way of standing and speaking was not overtly feminine, nor was it abrasive or crass like many of the men's. She seemed to have their respect, as there were no cat-calls or lingering glances in her direction. While normally the young princess would have admired such a woman, in this situation, any admirable points only fueled Jelanda's undeserved hatred towards her.

The reason for the princess's rising fury was written on the King's face. Though his knights had the respect not to, the king himself did shamelessly leer because no one was higher than him. In Jelanda's eyes, that could never be his fault. It was the sword-whore's armor, the way her shoulder weapon belts had to be specially fitted around her bust and hips; it was how she painted her face and trimmed her hair so neatly about her shoulders though she resented anyone who looked at her as more or less than a man.

Her father called to the court just as Jelanda appeared. He called for the sword-whore whom Jelanda hated. "Leone, where are you, my knight?" he asked in a high and mighty voice, though it seemed quite badly forced from such a feeble-bodied man. Jelanda cringed at the sound and went straight as close to his side as she was allowed.

The young female warrior came forward from the king's most trusted soldiers and knelt at the foot of his throne in reverence. "My lord, I am here."

"Stand and come closer," he beckoned. "My eyes are not as keen as they once were."

Everyone knew that the king was not blind, he'd commissioned for gold-plated glasses to correct the minor trouble with his vision. Even Jelanda could not deny that. Yet the woman stood regally, went forward, and no one in the room dared to snicker though several did not have to; it was already on their faces. Jelanda broiled with anger and intended to burn a hole straight through Leone's head with her glare.

But, Leone kept her head turned down respectfully as she approached. The king looked up and down, then smiled. "Ah, Leone. I have a mission of great importance for you to carry out."

Jelanda forced her fury to smolder. It occurred to her that if this went off without a hitch, Leone could be gone for quite a while. She doubted that her father would send her to perform any task that the poor untalented but beautiful woman could get herself killed doing, but at least she would be _gone_.

The king continued. "This is not to leave this room, all of you, my trusted knights; but I have news from our intelligence that Villnore is preparing a massive invasion." That was not so much news as common knowledge, but no one cared to state the fact. " At this point in time, I do not believe that we can withstand their attack. I am sending you, Leone, and any men that you see fit to take with you to the Guardian Shrine to retrieve the Dragon Orb. We will use it to ensure peace for Artolia."

"Yes, your majesty," she replied and kneeled again. "I will do this for the kingdom."

"May the gods grant your safe return," he said. "You are dismissed."

(3)

Later, the soldiers that had been in the audience room that day returned to their own corner of the castle. Here there were only warriors, a large majority of which were mercenaries who cared not who heard them speak, and a few servants who would sooner forget what was said than cause trouble.

"Does that old fart honestly think that no one sees him drooling over Leone?" said one of the men.

"I think he just doesn't care if we know or not," answered another. "He takes our respect for granted."

Leone herself sat quietly at one of the plain wooden tables in the soldiers' dining area, a place where no one who cared for fineries came. She listened to the others, unmindful of the fact that she herself was the subject, as she sipped a bowl of stew with more manners than most of the others present.

"Yeah, and I can't believe he sat right in front of the kingdom's best soldiers and said that he doesn't think we can win this," the first one said, while grabbing for a loaf of bread from the basket near Leone. "Talk about a morale-killer. Did he forget that this is the land of mercenaries? No one is going to stay and lay down their lives in a futile battle for his sake, and I'm included in that number!" This could very well be considered a statement of treason, but no one among them felt differently. The large man sat down in the stool across from Leone, dwarfing the woman with his hulking mass, and took a bite before speaking. "What do you think?" he asked her. "You're the one who got pinned with the job."

"I think it's pure folly to resort to the gods' trinkets in order to win a war that hasn't even started," she said. "And... if he's done it to impress me, then it will not work, I assure you."

Now the other soldier, one who was not quite as large, sat down next to his comrade and took some bread for himself, leaving a piece for Leone. "But you still have to do it, right?"

"If I don't, some other fool will be sent in my place," she said. "Better that I go and take advantage of the chance to see new places, at least."

The larger soldier laughed. "I highly doubt that the guardian shrine is full of beautiful scenery!"

"Who will you take with you?" asked the other.

"I haven't quite decided yet," she answered. Her bowl was empty. She stood, took the last piece of bread from the basket just as a servant came to carry both away, and took a bite as she left the room out into the courtyard where it was still early in the afternoon. Plenty of time remained to find a partner for this game of fetch.

(4)

Jelanda looked at herself in the mirror for the second time that day. This time she dressed herself and there were no maids in sight. She stood on her own two feet instead of the stool. "Now that wasn't hard," she said to herself. "How does it take three people an hour to do this every morning?"

But these clothes weren't the royal trappings that took dedicated hands so long to adorn her with; this was a dress she had taken from one of the court's ladies without permission. It was still fabulously expensive, but not quite regal enough to give her away. It was the best option available to her to disguise her identity, and for that she was glad. She would rather not wear clothes of a simple commoner if she could possibly help it.

After looking around for some time, she found her old sun bonnet and a pair of glasses that she used to use to play dress-up with as a girl. This should be enough to fool a stupid mercenary or two, she thought. After some stealthy maneuvers, she escaped from the castle miraculously without drawing attention to herself.

(5)

Jelanda had the name of one young man who was rumored to be an excellent soldier for hire. She had seen him once in person; he had won an award one year ago, back when Jelanda was thirteen years old and admired most of the soldiers who served her father. That was before Leone had risen up the ranks and Jelanda began to spite everything about mercenaries.

His name was Lawfer and simple questioning of a few commoners led her to the residence where he and two or three others were said to live. Jelanda was not the only one who knew their reputations. It was said to be rare that all of them be present at the same time, as they went on missions so often. Hopefully the one that she wanted, or at least someone else who would be sufficient, would be there.

After reaching the address, she looked up at the unseemly cabin in distaste. It was a simple shack with two, maybe three, rooms inside. The windows were not glassed in, but rather left open holes in the wall behind shutters. This place was what she considered to be a hovel, and she was ashamed to know that one of Artolia's heroes lived here. All the same, someone had taken the time and expended the effort to plant an arrangement of flowers around the bare window sills, likely as a show of appreciation. Wondering how anyone could think that would make a difference, she knocked on the door, fearing that the untreated wood would give her delicate fingers splinters.

A young man came to the door and she was delighted to see that it was in fact the one called Lawfer, the man she sought. He was a good deal cleaner in appearance than even the knights regularly allowed into the castle, but still had the distinct smell of a commoner who could not afford to wash often. Jelanda wondered how these people could stand it, though none of them seemed to notice at all.

"Yes?" he asked her, obviously surprised to see a rich young lady at the door, and for a moment she was angry that there was no formal greeting. She opened her mouth to unkindly point this out, and then suddenly remembered that she was not Princess Jelanda here. "Pardon me, are you lost?"

"No, I am not lost!" Jelanda retorted. "I've come to hire you!"

Lawfer's eyes widened slightly in confusion and then he spun around to look behind him. "Celia, do you know this girl?"

Jelanda looked past him and saw that there was a young female warrior, the same class as Leone, sitting at a half-broken table in the small house. She suppressed the urge to hiss as the woman looked her up and then back down before going back to her task of cleaning their equipment. "I've never seen her before."

"Don't talk about me as if I'm not even here!" she snapped. "I want to hire you, Lawfer, and not anyone else here." She looked past Lawfer to the girl with her nose turned high into the air and looked as if she might spit.

"I'm thinking of taking a vacation anyway," Celia shrugged. "Someone needs to wait for the others to come home. Why don't you take her out somewhere, Lawfer? I'm sure that Kashell will be jealous when he returns."

"Sticking me with the odd ones," Lawfer sighed. Jelanda nearly let go of her reservations at that, but held her tongue. "I suppose I can't let a young lady wait out on the street. If you won't come in, then I'll go with you."

Jelanda smiled. Now that was the kind of polite treatment she was supposed to be getting. "Thank you, good knight," she said, while still glaring at Celia. "Come along."

(6)

Jelanda led Lawfer through the streets, not that she knew any of them. This was one of her first outings from the castle, and she had to admit on some level underneath her dissatisfaction with certain conditions that she was having fun so far. All of these low-class people were not so bad when they simply viewed you as rich rather than outright royalty. She could strike up a conversation without scaring the wits out of everyone. The lack of respect took a great deal of getting used to, however.

She had no idea where she was going, and the man who followed behind her made no suggestions on the matter. Rather than ask for advice, she kept walking until she caught the smell of something good. There was a fabulous smell coming out of an eatery. In her hurry to leave the castle on her adventure, it had not occurred to her that she would need to provide a meal for herself somehow. Such a thing had always been taken care of.

"Huh," Lawfer droned, inspecting her choice of restaurant. It was in another building which Jelanda mentally labeled as "hovel" but she would not let that deter her. "I was expecting you to choose something vastly fancier..."

"It smells good, whatever it is," Jelanda responded sharply. "I'm assuming you would protect me if it proved to be unsafe."

"Certainly," he agreed. "Besides, if it's a cheap meal for me, then all the better."

(7)

Inside the establishment they were seated at a table in a corner where a few candle lanterns dimly lit the interior. A dull murmur from several conversations in the condensed space would mask their words at least, but she felt that everyone was looking at her. She coughed at the smoke from their pipes as if she was surrounded by poison gas, but Lawfer appeared completely unaffected. Suddenly embarrassed at herself for one of the first times quite possibly in her life, she cut the dramatics and sat down.

"They are serving roast and potatoes today, I see," Lawfer said idly.

"They only serve one thing a day?" Jelanda returned in astonishment.

"Never-ending platters of it," he replied.

Jelanda watched as a husky barmaid slapped down a plate full of both items as well as a mug of water in front of both of them. "Enjoy it," was all she said before tromping off. This was not the kind of service that Jelanda was used to, but she appreciated the fact that there was now a pile of food in front of her, no fuss made.

She took the first bite of the roast suspiciously, as if it were the flesh of some monstrous creature. Then abruptly she began tearing into it as fast as she could, gobbling it up. "I've never eaten something like this!" she exclaimed, spitting bits of meat and potato at Lawfer.

She hadn't expected a stupid mercenary to give a damn about manners, but Lawfer watched her with a shocked and almost terrified expression for a moment, then graciously laughed it off. "It is decent enough, yes..."

Jelanda ate so fast that she filled her stomach too quickly and felt sick. "Oh dear, I've been a pig... but that was so good. They didn't put caviar or truffles on it or anything."

Though feeling awkward for reasons that Jelanda was trying to figure out, Lawfer managed to crack a smile at that and went on to their purpose for meeting. "What is it you wanted to discuss?" he asked her. She got the feeling that he was eager to be out of there and suddenly her previous anger began to fester again.

"I need to hire you to go to a place with me," she said. "That's all."

"What kind of place? For what reason?"

Jelanda wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I'll tell you that when we get there."

Lawfer grimaced. "I am sorry, but I can't accept the mission if I don't know what it is."

"We're umm..." Jelanda thought fast. "You're going to assist me while I do some treasure-hunting. You can handle that, right?"

"Why don't you hire me to find the item, then?" he asked. Then as nicely as he could, he began to explain, but Jelanda still felt that she was being patronized. "If you're not willing to pay more than the item's worth, then any treasure hunter is going to just keep the treasure, do you see how it works?"

"That's typical of mercenaries I suppose, but I'm not really interested in the treasure anyway," Jelanda said. "And I will pay you any price you name for the completion of this mission, but it has to be a secret."

"I am sorry milady, but this is very suspicious, and a mercenary does have other priorities than money, believe it or not. I simply cannot accept this mission without knowing the details of where we are going and why we are going there."

Jelanda sighed, exhausted. "How on earth did I come upon the only morally grounded mercenary in all of Artolia? How is my luck so bad?" Then she straightened her posture and looked straight into his eyes. "I don't plan to kill anyone, so why don't you just go along with it?"

He smiled kindly, taking the edge off of the scolding just as Jelanda was about to explode. "Listen, you seem like an honest young woman who I would gladly lend my services. Just give me a bit more information, and I'll go with you."

Jelanda took a deep breath in, and then exhaled. Once she was calm, she explained the situation. "I just need you to protect me when I go to the Guardian Shrine," she said. "I've never left this city before."

"It's dangerous inside as well as out," Lawfer said, but conceded the point. "I'd be acting as your escort then? You wouldn't have me fight anyone?"

"Not unless robbers and kidnappers threaten me, I suppose not. I am mainly concerned about the monsters."

"There now," Lawfer answered, relieved. "That doesn't sound so bad. It sounds like an easy-going job compared to what I normally do. What do you intend to do at the Guardian Shrine?"

"I must prevent someone else from getting a certain treasure," she said. "What happens to it after that, I couldn't care less."

(8)

That evening, the girl's request was still heavy on Lawfer's mind. It was also strange that he'd forgotten to ask the name of his employer. Celia laughed at him for that, and he wouldn't likely live it down. He would just have to wait and see if the girl would come back tomorrow. If she never came back at all, then maybe that would be better.

She was a naive rich girl ready and willing to get herself into trouble. It probably wasn't a bad thing, might even have been an admirable trait for an aristocrat; but he wondered if she was really brave or if it was simple ignorance, and worried about her safety. She had been smart enough to seek out a mercenary for her little adventure in the first place, but then she had insisted that she go home on her own. It was getting to be late in the afternoon. He hoped that she made it home safely. The light of day didn't always ward off danger. There were likely men in the city more fearsome than monsters in the forest.

His thoughts were interrupted when there was another knock at the door. He went to open it, hoping to gods that it wasn't his mysterious client still running about after nightfall. To the contrary, it was a person who Lawfer knew and admired a great deal, a higher-ranking mercenary knight, Leone.

"Sorry to call upon you at this hour," she greeted him. "May I come in?"

"It isn't too late," Lawfer answered with a smile. "You are welcome here. Kashell and Aelia are gone, but Celia and I are here."

Celia came from the house's small kitchen and greeted her with a warm expression. "Hello, Leone," she said. "I'm making dinner right now, so I'll let Lawfer speak with you. It's not much, but you're welcome to it once it's done."

"You are kind," Leone answered. "So, Lawfer," she said, in a down-to-business tone. "Is your schedule clear? I've got a job tomorrow, and I'm looking for a partner, one that I can trust to act in a just manner."

"Well," Lawfer shrugged. "I'm not too sure about that."

"What do you mean, not sure?"

"A strange girl came by here," he explained, "A rich one, she asked me to take a job for her, but I didn't get her name."

"That's odd," Leone agreed. "What kind of job is it?"

"She wants me to take her to the Guardian Shrine to beat someone else to a treasure, but I'm fairly certain that there's no getting inside without some kind of royal seal, anyway."

Leone sighed as if pieces of the story were falling together, though Lawfer was not following. "I have the seal in my possession as of now," she explained. "The king gave it to me so that I may bring the Dragon Orb from the shrine. That's the job I was telling you about. It's a top-secret mission that only the king's inner circle and favorite knights should know about."

Lawfer was shocked. "That girl somehow knew about it?"

"Yes... but don't worry," she said and smiled in a way that was not so reassuring. She looked as devious and plotting as the strange rich girl. "I have an idea who she was... blonde-haired, and about fourteen years old, would you say?"

"I suppose," Lawfer responded. Honestly, he had thought her to be a bit older than that. "Do you know her?"

"She is Princess Jelanda," Leone said.

Even Celia from the kitchen heard this and stopped what she was doing as Lawfer's eyes bulged. "You're not serious!" he said.

"Yes, I am," Leone answered. "She gave me a harsh stare in court today, though I'm not sure why. Now she intends to follow after me, and commit some mischief, but wouldn't tell you exactly what it was she planned?"

"That's correct," Lawfer replied. "She only wanted me to protect her along the way, so that she could prevent you from getting your treasure. She acted as if it was some kind of game."

The three of them sat in a thoughtful silence for moments that lingered. Lawfer was beginning to remember seeing the princess once, and yes, that could have easily been her. It was hard to imagine the princess of Artolia stuffing her face full of beef and potatoes that way, but it had to be true.

"Well," Leone said at last, "I wouldn't decline her if I were you. It's a good bet that she'll try to go on her own if she can't find a mercenary by tomorrow. The girl is proud and stubborn. I would much rather that you take care of her than some stupid lout."

"Are you suggesting that I play along?" Lawfer asked, confused. "Isn't it dangerous? What if someone found out? We'd all be hung. Why not just inform her caretakers?"

"I doubt that anything will go wrong with the two of us there," she said. "It's a Guardian Shrine, not a demon's den. You are free to decline if you want to, but I'm interested to see what it is she wants from me. That girl is the future of Artolia."

Lawfer grimaced. "If that's so, I may start looking for a job in some other town..."

"It doesn't sound very good to me," Celia said, "but more trouble could come of it if we anger her. I hear that her highness has quite a stranglehold on the court. And who knows... if it goes off well, then when she becomes queen, we could all be in a great situation."

Lawfer slumped his shoulders. "Somehow I don't share your optimism."

"Celia," Leone said, "Would you come with me tomorrow, and let Lawfer go with the princess?"

"I have nothing more planned," Celia agreed. "But why do you need a partner, anyway? There is nothing to threaten you at the Guardian Shrine."

"No," Leone said, "but the king keeps poor secrets, and the Dragon Orb is quite a valuable object. The gods themselves have sought it in the past."

(9)

The next day, Lawfer woke early and prepared himself for the mission. He hoped that the princess wouldn't show with all of his heart. He did not like the idea of taking such a young lady--princess or not--into what could be dangerous territory. If something happened, he would pay for it. Then again, he thought that he would die before allowing something to happen to her, so he would never make it back to be punished in any case. The way that such a morbid thought reassured him was a bit unsettling in itself.

The princess showed up before the sun had risen over the roofs of the buildings on the horizon, but Leone and Celia had left long before that. She was dressed differently today. She had what Lawfer guessed was her idea of traveling gear on, though it was still far too regal to be practical--a velvet tunic underneath a bright red cape. She also carried a wand with her, and he wondered if she practiced magic.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked. "I have a down payment for you." With that, she held out a bag of gold coins that could easily cover what Lawfer would charge for two expeditions of this nature by itself.

"You shouldn't walk around town with this much cash on you," he said. "You'll be mugged."

"In broad daylight? Who would dare?"

Lawfer laughed uneasily. "Plenty of people. But anyway, I am ready. Let us go."

(10)

They left the city and entered the forest. They were not even a forth of the way to their destination, only an hour on the trail, before Jelanda was huffing and puffing and demanding a break. Lawfer granted her this rest gladly. To her credit, it had been an uphill walk. The way back would be much easier. Still, he hoped that she would decide travel was too much work and turn back.

"You know, I could retrieve the treasure for you and bring it back to town," he said. "You don't have to come with me."

"I won't be left behind!" Jelanda replied, and stuck her nose defiantly into the air. "I just need a short rest, that is all."

Lawfer gave up and decided to check his equipment again to pass some time, though he had done it before leaving. Jelanda was surprisingly quiet for a few minutes. Then, he heard her gasp and looked up. It wasn't a sound of horror, but he was concerned nonetheless.

"What a proud looking bird!" she gaped, pointing at the sky to an eagle swooping overhead. "I wish I had some seed to call it here!"

"Ha, I doubt it would come to you for seeds," Lawfer said, glancing up at the bird of prey. "They eat rodents, and their claws can tear a man's face off. People use them as weapons, even."

"How magnificent," Jelanda continued, in even more awe. "I should like to have one! It would probably devour all of those other weak birds of mine."

"That's... a bit frightening," Lawfer said under his breath.

"What did you just mumble?" Jelanda squawked in a manner so bird-like that it was creepy. "Speak up if you have something to say!"

"It would make a beautiful pet," Lawfer covered quickly. "I agree with you one-hundred percent."

(11)

Jelanda adapted to the pace of travel much more quickly than Lawfer ever expected. He was amazed at how fascinated by each and every little thing she was, then remembered that this was her first time out of the city at all, perhaps even outside of the castle walls except for yesterday. That reminded him of how much trouble they were all going to be in if anyone discovered this. It would look like a kidnapping, wouldn't it? Still, he respected Leone and expected some greater reasoning behind her decision.

"So what's the story about this old shrine anyway?" Jelanda asked, breaking Lawfer's concentration.

"You've never been there?" he replied. From the face that she made, he could tell that she did not enjoy being lectured. "Well," he hurried on, clearing his throat. "It is a shrine to the gods protected by a holy seal. They say that there's a great saint dragon named Arngrim, the guardian. He brought the Dragon Orb to Artolia, and the legend is that he is still guarding it somewhere deep within that shrine."

"A dragon?" Jelanda asked. "That's more dangerous than anything I was told about!"

"Relax," Lawfer said reassuringly, though he wasn't feeling very relaxed himself. "It's only a rumor. If there were a dragon there really, then certainly other monsters would have taken up residence in the area, and as far as I know, there are none in that shrine." In fact, there hadn't been any on the journey through the forest, either.

"But the Dragon Orb is powerful, right?" Jelanda went on. She sounded strangely curious more than afraid. "It wouldn't be odd to assume that a _dragon_ would be guarding the _Dragon Orb_, right?"

"No one knows for certain," Lawfer said. "Legends say that Odin himself sought after the orb, but the royal family are the only ones with access to it now."

"All anyone has ever told me is to obey the gods," Jelanda said. "It's so annoying! Obey the gods, or Artolia will end up like that ancient place, Dipan. I hate going to worship all of the time... I bet they don't even care, honestly."

Lawfer noted how she slipped very close to revealing her identity. Although most children were told the same thing, only the royal family would have been held responsible for incurring the wrath of the gods upon the entire nation. "It certainly seems at times that they do not hear our pleas," Lawfer agreed. "But perhaps they do, and they simply ignore them just as men would."

"Exactly," Jelanda agreed, though she seemed to miss the point entirely. "I wouldn't listen to a bunch of humans whining and complaining about every little ailment either!"

"I think that--"

"So why do we pray in the first place? That's effort better spent solving problems myself!"

Lawfer decided that it was better not to say anything. Prodding the princess too much could be bad for his health in the long run, he thought. However, he couldn't help but chuckle at the princess's perspective. He wondered that if like the gods, if her subjects stopped praising her, would she bring her wrath down upon them? At least the gods didn't charge taxes.

(12)

They approached the shrine by that afternoon. Lawfer thought that they had made good time, but they wouldn't be done with their quest and home again by dark. He hoped that the princess had come up with a good cover story so that she wouldn't be missed.

The shrine was a large stone building that no doubt led several levels down into the ground. Worshipers generally came and stayed over night before heading back to town. This was allowed so long as they paid homage to the gods, but other development around the shrine was forbidden. Today there seemed to be a group of perhaps fifteen people at the shrine, not a terribly large amount.

"I was expecting something more mysterious," Jelanda said in disappointment as she watched the current shrine-dwellers going about their business from a hill where they stood with a good view of the place.

"It is a popular location," Lawfer explained. "Only the front of the top floor is open to the public. The lower levels are sealed and only the royal family has access to them."

"Really?" Jelanda replied. "I was hoping to get inside first... but I suppose a turn in plans is to be expected."

Lawfer spied Leone and Celia and was relieved. He hoped that finally running into them would resolve things, though he realized that he was probably being overly optimistic in that thought. "Is that who you are looking for?" he asked.

"Yes!" she answered. "Let them get a distance ahead of us, then we will go inside. I'd like them to open the seal first of all."

"As you wish," Lawfer agreed. The two of them held their position on the hill and watched as Leone and Celia spoke to the people at the entrance. They spent some time talking to everyone, and soon people were coming out of the shrine. "Looks like they are clearing people out just in case there is any trouble," he said.

"That is wonderful," Jelanda replied. "I have formulated a new plan."

"Would it be too much of me to ask what this plan is?" Lawfer asked her.

"Yes," she huffed. "Just come on. We can't get _too_ far behind them." With an air of confidence she began walking towards the entrance. Lawfer was still reluctant, but there was not much that he could do at this point.

(13)

Leone had been inside of this particular shrine on a few occasions, but never had much interest in the place. Neither did Celia apparently, as she was just as willing to move through the first level with all of its worship services and fancy furnishings without stopping for a tour as Leone was.

The inside of the first level reminded Leone of a cathedral. It seemed to have more space vertically, about four stories, than it did horizontally, which made no sense to her. She supposed it was all just an attempt to impress the gods. It wasn't working too well, if that was the case.

She had never before taken notice of the doorway at the back of the shrine, but after advising everyone to leave or at least wait outside until their work was done, she and Celia approached it curiously.

"Do you have a key?" she asked.

"Yes," Leone answered, and removed one from her traveling pouch. It was silver and the head was adorned with a crest of Artolia's royalty. The lock on the large oak door yielded and then the door was pushed open with a small amount of force. Dust had piled up all around on the inside and the hinges were long out of use.

The next room was just as elegant and finely crafted as the rest of the shrine they had seen so far. There were statues of different interpretations of gods and goddesses. Leone idly wondered if any of them were accurate.

At the back of this room there was a wide circular platform. It was engraved with the complex image of a dragon, presumably the one named Arngrim. "Seems like a good sign," Leone said to Celia as she took out another item, this time a disc with the same graven image upon it. "This should operate it."

"Here," Celia said, pointing at the engraving which represented the Dragon Orb. It was the same size and depth of the disc in Leone's hand.

"Simple enough for us, if a bit obvious for a secret door," Leone said, as she placed the disc into the slot.

There was a soft rumble under the floor and Leone took a step back as the entire platform began to lower a bit and then slide into the floor. They watched, impressed with the ancient machinery, until the original platform had disappeared under the floor and an open hole remained in the ground. Around its edge all the way down was a spiral staircase. Leone looked in and could not see the bottom.

"Light us a torch," she said. "I doubt there's anything dangerous down here, but let's be careful."

(14)

A short time later, Lawfer and Jelanda arrived at the room with the stairwell descending into the dark. Promptly, Jelanda took the magic wand from her belongings and tapped it gently. It began to emit light enough to see by.

"I'm surprised that you are able to use magic," Lawfer said to her.

"Yes, I'm quite capable," Jelanda responded in a haughty tone.

They descended down into the lower levels of the shrine. They continued moving along the old stone steps for several stories in the dark before coming to an opening. This was the entrance to a large room. Here, in the light from Jelanda's wand, they could see that the decorations of this lower shrine were even more exotic than the floor above. Pillars encrusted with silver sculpture stood along the path of a figure eight engraved upon the floor. A door straight ahead had already been opened, and a feint glow lit the chamber beyond.

"They aren't in the next room," Lawfer said quietly. "They must have found some torches to light."

"Let's take a look then," Jelanda replied. She began to lead the way, but Lawfer stepped back in front of her.

"Just in case," he said.

In the next room they found a beautiful crystalline lighting structure that had been lit with fire. With mirrors plating the interior and hung all over the room, a beam of light was illuminating the entire chamber. Despite its beauty, there was nothing of interest here. Lawfer found another stairwell which led to an even deeper level. They descended and found themselves in another lit hall lined with beautiful suits of armor. Each was unique as if to fit a different warrior.

"Do they represent Einherjar?" Lawfer wondered aloud.

"Does it matter?" Jelanda asked in response. "Anyway, this is deep enough. Now watch out, I'm about to use a magic spell."

"What spell?" Lawfer asked, but she did not answer. He watched her remove a vial of some powdery substance from her things. "What is that?"

"It's a substance that summons some weak creatures," Jelanda said. "It is useful for various situations, and I plan to use it to scare Leone away from this place before she gets the treasure."

"It summons them, but can it control them?" Lawfer asked next.

"Well no, but that isn't exactly the point is it?"

Lawfer realized what the princess intended to do and it struck him as going too far. "Wait--" he started to say, but Jelanda had already popped the cork out of the vial and was raising her wand over it.

"Come forth, lowly creatures!" she chanted over the vial, and then spread its contents upon the ground.

Though he had sincerely hoped that the princess had been tricked and bought a fake potion, that was not to be. Soon the sound of feet scurrying in the halls of the shrine were heard, too many feet to each set of footsteps to be humans, Lawfer realized. He grabbed his spear and held it ready between the source of the noise and the princess. Unfortunately, it was coming from their exit route rather than from Leone's side.

"Wait, that isn't supposed to happen!" Jelanda said as the first of the small creatures came skittering down the staircase. It was a weak opponent just as Jelanda had said, a little orange imp, but there were more of them coming.

"You didn't consider the fact that they might appear above us?" he asked her as he readied his attack.

Jelanda retorted to that quip in frustrated anger. "You just fight, that's what I'm paying your for!"

(15)

Leone heard a strange noise coming from above them. She had realized already that Lawfer and Jelanda were behind them, but this was something different. "Many small creatures," she said.

Celia already knew what she meant. "What should we do?"

"I don't doubt that Lawfer can take care of himself, but the princess could be in danger if he is her only guard."

With a sigh, Celia turned and began to walk back into the hall full of armor from the chamber they had just entered. "I suppose we owe poor Lawfer some help for putting him through this.

(16)

Jelanda watched with no small amount of awe as Lawfer's lance circled overhead, striking an imp out of the air and then impaled another. He used it as gracefully as one of the court dancers with their batons, but this motion was both powerful and deadly. At least eight of the small things had trickled in from above, and he had killed each of them before any reached Jelanda. She stood waiting with her wand, half hoping that something would come her way so that she could display her true power.

She got her wish when another kind of monster appeared. This one resembled a lizard, though it was the size of a large dog and walked upright on its back legs. Lawfer was unable to destroy this one in one hit, and stuck it again. This allowed one of the orange-colored imps to sneak past him. Jelanda had readied herself, but still had no time to cast the spell as a reaction.

She braced herself for the attack as Lawfer shouted something unintelligible, but the blow never came. When she looked up, she saw Lawfer's female acquaintance, Celia, from the previous day poised on the ground in front of her, having leapt and slashed the imp in two with her blade.

"Princess Jelanda!" she heard a dark and husky yet unmistakably feminine voice shout. Leone had seen her and knew exactly who she was. Suddenly Leone grabbed her and pushed her back.

"How dare you!" was all that Jelanda could say.

"As long as we have ourselves in this situation," Leone said, "we might as well make the most of it by fighting together."

"I don't want to fight with you!" Jelanda spat.

"Why not?" Leone asked her directly, without faltering in tone or expression. "You have a wand, don't you? You are responsible for your actions, are you not?"

"How dare you make such demands of me!" the princess whelped.

"The rear position is the most effective spot for a mage," Leone continued, while at the same time cutting down one more of the countless creatures beginning to pour in.

"I don't have to work for you!" Jelanda spat, but soon found that no one was listening to her, nor did they care what she had to say. They were all fighting the creatures that she herself had summoned, how could she blame them? Red-faced in embarrassment, Jelanda took her frustration out on the enemy. "Fire Storm!" she shouted. A breath of flame swept up from the ground and then erupted into a pillar which caught five individual monsters in its wake and destroyed them. She stood catching her breath after the attack.

"That is rather impressive," Lawfer admitted in good humor. Jelanda wasn't sure, but she thought that perhaps now that their numbers were stronger, Lawfer was actually having _fun_.

They continued to fight for nearly half an hour. Jelanda was amazed at how quick and agile both female warriors were, and doubly so by the strength that Lawfer possessed. A strange, carnal appreciation of these common mercenaries grew in her heart as she watched on and on. It _was_ a little bit fun.

Finally the horde subsided. None of them appeared to be hurt; they were hardly even exhausted. After a few moments to catch their breath, each one was fresh as new and ready to fight once again. Once the hall was silent, Jelanda's uncharacteristic bout of awe and admiration faded away, and she realized what exactly was going on.

"You told her!" she shouted at Lawfer. She pointed an accusing finger straight at Celia. "That woman is also your friend! You traitorous imbecile, you told Leone that we would come!"

"No, I guessed," Leone answered for Lawfer before he made an attempt to defend himself. "Princess Jelanda, if your grief lies with me, then speak to me directly. Lawfer has served you effectively on your own terms as best as he could, given the situation."

"Maybe if you'd given me more information," Lawfer said, but kept his tone low. He glanced at Celia and Jelanda saw that they both were grateful to Leone for stepping in. Jelanda clenched her fists and began to shout. "You wretched skank! How dare you mock me so! I'll have you all punished severely!" She continued on in that manner for quite a while before falling silent.

Leone waited patiently until all of these insults subsided. "If you are quite finished," she said calmly, "we have a treasure to find."

Jelanda's face contorted in an unnatural way to the most furious pout that any of them had ever seen. "If you expect me to help you, then you are sorely mistaken!"

"Your father needs his weapon," Leone explained.

"He may, but he doesn't need a tramp like you!"

Leone's stone-like exterior cracked a bit at that statement and she smiled. "Do not worry. Your father does not interest me in the slightest except as my ruler and someone whom I'm bound to obey."

Jelanda opened her moth to shout something again, and then halted as another thought occurred. "What's wrong with my father, are you too good for him?"

"This is going nowhere," Celia interjected.

"The bottom line seems to be that we are stuck with the princess," Lawfer added. "Leaving may be dangerous separately if more of those things remain outside the shrine. Whether any of us like it or not, we are forced to stay together."

"I only hope that those shrine visitors heeded my warning and were well away," Leone groaned, then looked accusingly at Jelanda. "Do you realize that innocent people may have died in the midst of your silly jealous game?"

That had not occurred to Jelanda, but she refused to let Leone make the point. "That is why I waited until we were far enough inside! How was I supposed to know that they would appear on the next level?"

"You could have killed us," Celia said.

"I doubt it," Jelanda answered. "From the looks of it, none of you were in any danger at all."

"Enough talk," Leone said, "We can debate until we are blue in the face later on. Right now we must retrieve the Dragon Orb."

"Very well," Jelanda agreed. "For my father."

(17)

They passed through a few more chambers, one more stairwell, and a few rooms after that, all decorated and lit in the same style as the previous areas, until the path opened up into a wide open corridor that was at least two floors tall and stretched through an incredible stone arc half way through. This area was lit by an unearthly blue glow emanating from several crystals embedded in the walls. These were not lit by fire, however, but by magic.

"Such a long hallway," Celia said, and her voice echoed down the corridor.

As a student of magic, Jelanda was fascinated by the lights and remained quiet enough as they continued through. It took a few minutes to pass through the arc and reach the other side of the long hallway. At this point there was an enormous door made of some sort of beautiful wood and rimmed with silver. The image of Arngrim the Saint Dragon was embossed upon it.

"It appears to be the end," Lawfer said. "If the Dragon Orb is here, then it is through this door."

Leone took a step towards the front of the group and then turned to face the others and address them. "Listen to me," she said. "Beyond this door there may be great danger."

"Well then," Jelanda answered and waved her hand in a dismissing manner. "Lawfer, go and see if the room is safe for me to enter, and maybe I'll still pay you full price despite your treachery." She had calmed down considerably.

"No," Leone interrupted, just as Lawfer was moving in accordance with the princess's wishes. "I am the leader, therefore I will take up the front and survey any dangers. Lawfer, Celia, you cover the princess, and flee if I give the command, do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am," Celia answered.

"If you insist," Lawfer also agreed. "But it will have to be some fearsome thing indeed if I'm to run."

Jelanda was enraged by the way that Leone stole the command from under her. "How dare you!" she baked again. "This is moronic. The point of being a leader is to have people do that for you!"

"No, it is most definitely not," Leone retorted forcefully. She turned and stared directly into Jelanda's eyes. For once, the young princess was stunned into silence and listened to her words. "Your duty as a leader is to determine what is best for those you lead, not what is the most convenient course of action for yourself. If you fail to provide for those that follow you, then your leadership will come to an end very quickly. The current king of Artolia refuses to dip into the coffers to pay for an appropriate armed force. He cares too much for his own pleasure, and for that of his family. A good father he may be, but a poor king he is. That is why Artolia faces an inevitable war that they cannot win, and why I have been charged to disturb an artifact which no doubt rests at the very foundation of all of Midgard in order to save it from utter annihilation. Do you understand what I am saying to you?"

It took several seconds for this message to entirely register within Jelanda's mind. Perhaps later she would rethink it, but her first reaction was unbridled fury. Spittle flew from her mouth as she screamed. "How dare you belittle me so and then insult my father to my face! Whore! Ten thousand deaths are not enough for you!"

"I'll expect you to support us with your magic," was Leone's only response. Let's go."

(18)

Overall, Leone had been amused with the princess's presence more than anything. She knew that the monsters she summoned would most likely be incapable of harming people had they the space to run away, but the princess did need to be told the consequences of her actions. That was the problem with royalty as Leone saw it. Though they held the responsibility for the entire nation, they were bred through generations to believe that they had no liability for their actions.

Though the girl was still giving her the immature and childish quips, she was starting to go along with the reasonable plan much sooner, Leone noticed. She sincerely hoped that nothing laid in wait for them; but if it did, having a mage in their party meant that they could strike at any sort of defense. She was confident that if the Dragon Orb was here, that they would obtain it.

Was the Dragon Orb here, though? She was not entirely hopeful as to that possibility. Artolia needed it to survive, but between the kingdom of Artolia and Midgard as a whole, she wondered if Artolia was not a small price to pay. Sacrifice Artolia or see all of Midgard anhillated--it wasn't a hard decision. Regardless, however, if Artolia was conquered, then this shrine would be uncovered eventually. Lose-lose was the situation. As to the location of the Dragon Orb, she would know as soon as she opened this door.

The door came open with surprising ease, and Leone stepped inside. It was a large room with a brilliant pedestal at the center decorated with a large sculpted dragon encrusted with gems. In nothing else, they could claim part of it as a reward. Leone strongly doubted that the gods would object. An obvious resting place for the orb was there; the orb itself was not.

"Was it all a hoax?" Celia asked, as each of them examined the room. "There aren't more rooms, are there?"

"I doubt it," Leone answered. "It just isn't here. I wonder if it was ever here at all."

Jelanda was obviously disappointed, but as Leone predicted, she was less furiously angry than before. At this rate, Leone wouldn't be able to impress her father, not that that she was trying to--but Jelanda's goal had been accomplished nonetheless. "What a bust!" she cried. "I'm so tired of this stupid place. Can we go back?"

"I think that we should," Lawfer agreed.

Before adding her input to the matter, Leone turned sharply to the back of the room again at full alert. Either it was a trick of the light, or there was a slight flickering in the corner. What bothered here even more was the sense of another presence there.

"What is it?" Celia asked, putting on her guard as well, along with Lawfer.

Leone stared into the spot, hoping to see any flicker of light or shadow moving as it shouldn't--something that would signify someone cloaked by magic. "I thought I saw someone..."

The person in the shadows, whether they were actually there or not, suddenly became a trivial matter as an even larger shimmering distortion appeared in the air in front of them. All four watched aghast as a creature standing nearly a full story tall on all fours began to materialize. It was a vaguely reptilian thing with huge taloned hands and a long tail that smashed into the pedestal behind it. The sturdy stone sculpture was crushed entirely under its weight.

"A dragon," Leone muttered. This was very bad. Upon closer inspection, it seemed that the monster's skin was falling apart. Its eyes were hollow and its bones jutted through its sickly flesh. A rank smell permeated the air the very second that it was fully formed. "An undead dragon..."

Jelanda began to panic. "I-I..." she stammered, "My spell shouldn't have conjured up anything like this!"

Both Celia and Lawfer's weapons crossed protectively in position in front of the princess, and Leone was to the front. Lawfer stood ready to strike, but was unsure if the claiming the first move would be wise. These creatures were rumored to be all but invulnerable. "What is a creature of the undead doing inside a shrine of the gods?" he asked urgently. "Such a thing should not be possible, no matter what the circumstances!"

Leone motioned to the others forcefully with a wave of her sword while never taking her eyes off of the undead dragon. "Full retreat! Celia, Lawfer, take the princess and run back immediately! I will bring up the rear!"

"There isn't any way that you can hope to injure such a thing," Lawfer argued, as Celia grabbed the shaken princess by the arm and began to run.

"Don't peg me as the heroic type," Leone responded flatly. "I am going to try my hardest to stay alive."

They began to sprint through the grand arch and across the corridor once again, Celia leading Jelanda, and Lawfer poised to protect them both as Leone followed behind. The beast became even larger as it rose to its hind legs and released a maddening roar that shook the foundation of the entire shrine.

(19)

Jelanda could hardly process what was happening. As soon as she saw that disgusting creature, she froze and remained unable to move until Celia grabbed her and began to pull. She wondered if they were all going to die here, and part of her even wondered if it would be her fault, and how would she feel about that? The lives of three servants who failed to protect her properly should not mean much, but what if she had placed them directly into a situation which they had no hope of winning? Had her father thought the same of Leone, that she was an expendable unit and no harm should come of her death?

The deafening scream of the enormous creature caused her to lose her step on the bridge. Thankfully Celia had kept her hold on Jelanda strong so that she would not fall. She wondered what she had done to merit that sort of treatment. Wouldn't she have simply run away in the same situation?

The sound left her ears ringing, and she could no longer hear the others shouting their commands and warnings. The corridor was crumbling all around them as they ran for their lives, large chunks of stone falling from overhead and raining in their path with each furious bounding step that the great undead dragon took.

This escape attempt was short lived. For the intensity of the moment and the number of heartbeats pounding in her chest, Jelanda was surprised to find that they had only run a less than half of the magnificent hall before the dragon caught up with them. It swept out a taloned arm the size of a tree trunk long enough to strike them all. Jelanda felt herself suddenly tangled up with another body as Lawfer leapt between her and the impending attack. He failed to avoid the blow, but after being thrown a distance that Jelanda would never again want to fall by the dragon's swipe, she found herself miraculously unharmed save for several bruises.

She staggered to her feet while Lawfer rose to his with some considerable effort. He had taken some damage that would have to be measured later. Jelanda could see that he was in great pain, yet continued valiantly to hold his spear. Celia had dodged the blow altogether, a nimble feat, and squatted in a stance poised to spring again. Leone, however, was no longer on the ground. Jelanda looked up to her horror to see the young light warrior helplessly entrapped in the dragon's vice-like grip.

"Keep running!" Leone screamed at them furiously as the dragon threatened to squeeze out her innards. Lawfer swallowed hard and hesitated for a mere second before grabbing Jelanda by the arm as Celia had done previously.

This time, Jelanda wrenched her wrist out of her protector's grip. "No!" she shouted, and raised her wand to the dragon. She gripped it with such strength that it was a wonder that the weapon did not snap into pieces. A light flashed from the tip as she concentrated with all of her might. "Damned creature! Ten thousand deaths are not enough for you!"

An incredible explosion ripped though the passage, striking the dragon in its mid-section and enveloping it. It cried out in pain and released its grip on Leone. She fell to the ground gasping for air, but still gripping her sword.

_Valkyrie,_ the dragon's voice boomed as the fires receded, leaving a veil of smoke. Jelanda heard his voice in her mind, her ears were still deaf from his roaring and smashing.

As the smoke began to clear, she saw that he was hardly harmed. The blast had done some damage, but what a proverbial drop in the bucket it was. A sparkling glint of metal fell to the demolished stone at his feet. Just after the blast, Celia had thrown a dagger so fast that Jalanda had failed to catch it, but it mattered little now, deflecting harmlessly off of its rotting and yet invulnerable body.

The voice rose in their minds again. _Battle Maiden, I have no taste for these pathetic mortal insects. Remain here and fight against me, so that I may return to my slumber, and I shall let your comrades escape, lest they be foolish enough to face me._

"Who is he speaking to?" Jelanda asked, though even her own voice sounded muddled to her ears. She knew that the name Valkyrie referred to the gods' chooser of the slain, but the rest confused her. Was the Valkyrie Maiden lurking somewhere nearby, waiting to send her escorts to Valhalla once they were annihilated? Strangely, rather than lamenting her inevitable death, she began to wonder would the Valkyrie choose her as well, or send her to rest in Niflheim?

"What are you doing, you fools?" Leone barked at them, banishing Jelanda's thoughts. "Run, keep running!"

"Come!" Ceilia demanded, and grabbed Jelanda again. This time Jelanda could not even think to attack again, and allowed herself to be pulled. They ran until they cleared the next arch at the opposite end of the corridor. Jelanda found herself airborne once more, this time in the arms of Celia, who bounded gymnastically out of the path of a crushing pile of rubble as it fell, closing the passage.

Lawfer stood. He was bleeding from a gash on his head, and Jelanda could not determine how bad it was. Celia was fine, as was Jelanda herself. When the dust settled, they saw that the passage had been completely closed. The dragon could no longer reach them. However, Leone was nowhere to be found.

"Was she... crushed?" Celia asked in voice trembling in oncoming grief rather than fear.

Lawfer was stoic and his expression was furious. His hands were clenched into fists so tightly that Jelanda was truly afraid. She opened her mouth to say something, but just as she found that she had nothing to say, they heard the feint noise of a blade striking beyond the rocks.

"She's fighting!" Jelanda cried, and threw herself onto the stone pieces. With raw emotion that surprised even herself, she threw all of her strength into lifting one piece of rubble and vainly attempting to move it. "Leone, please!"

"Stop!" Celia said, and pulled her back. "You'll hurt yourself, and bring more crashing down on us all!"

(20)

Leone laughed bitterly as she realized the gravity of her situation. All of her speeches earlier would have to be proved now. She hoped that Lawfer and Celia were cold enough to go on without her, even as she still lived. She doubted that, however. They would be standing outside of the crumbled passage until they heard no more movement save for the dragon's heavy steps as he returned to his den. Perhaps even Jelanda would spend time crying, though she hoped that wouldn't be.

Leone heard the dragon speak once more. _Come, let my debt to the gods be repaid!_

"I have no idea what your relation to the gods is, undead creature," she answered while raising her sword and staring at her demise bravely eye to eye. "I do not know who you call for. However, if your battle is with me, then let it be done!"

(21)

The single clash was all that they heard of their comrade's weapon. The dragon's roar ripped through the shrine once again. This time, Jelanda's ears managed to withstand the overbearing sound. Then there was silence.

This deathly silent frozen moment went on for seconds or full minutes, she could not tell. It could have been hours, years perhaps.

"Take the princess to safety," Lawfer said at last. "I will stay."

"Stay and do what?" Celia retorted. Though far less hurt than Lawfer, she was an emotional wreck. "Dig her out? Incur the Dragon's wrath again, and bring it upon all of Artolia this time?"

"We should at least find her body and bury it!" Lawfer replied. He was most likely suffering mentally from his injuries as well as from the stress of the situation itself. "We owe her that, for her honor!"

Celia's voice softened and she reached out for his arm. "Honor will not help the dead," she said delicately. "You are hurt. We must find aid for you."

"The soldiers will come," Jelanda said in a low tone. "They will find her and bury her eventually, I am sure." She too was gripping her hands and seething at the utter hopelessness of it all. If the Valkyrie had come, she had come for Leone alone. "But... the two of you... I assume that your situation is not good."

After a moment of consideration, Celia looked down at her feet shamefully. "We may have to leave Artolia."

"This is all because I've gotten involved!" Jelanda answered loudly. "It is all my fault!"

"No," Lawfer said, and staggered toward her. "You may have complicated things, yes, but that dragon was not part of your mischief. It is one of the undead, a creature that by all means should not... should not possibly be here. The sanctity of the gods would forbid it from entering this place, even if somehow summoned by your magic. Without your spell back there, we might _all_ have died."

"Please don't speak so much," Celia said, and raised a piece of cloth from her pouch to the wound on Lawfer's head.

Jelanda knew all of those things, yet this seemed wrong because of her involvement. For failure, there would be repercussions, yes; but for having the princess brought into such a situation under any circumstances, even if she admitted fault on her own part, her father would ultimately have both of them killed. That was something that she could not accept.

"Let's sneak back into town," Jelanda said. "I will go back to the castle, and hopefully in the commotion of the shrine being partially demolished, I will not be missed. The two of you can claim to never have been here. I'll pay whatever doctor you see to shut his mouth."

Lawfer and Celia considered that. Jelanda knew what they were thinking, that it seemed a shameful thing to do. In the end, they decided to go with Celia's statement of honor being useless to the dead, only this time they would be the dead ones in question. Celia answered first. "It could work."

"Yes," Lawfer replied, and began to grasp at his side. The pain was starting to affect him and he limped as he walked.. "Let us go before anyone sees us, and while I can still move."

(22)

It was late in the evening the next day before the king called to see Jelanda. By that time, she had washed and dressed herself once again in her royal attire. No one noticed that she was gone; either that, or no one cared. Would anyone here honestly care if she died? Did some of them actually want her dead? Celia and Lawfer had risked their lives for her sake; Leone had given hers. Thankfully Lawfer could easily be treated for a head wound that turned out to be bloody but light enough for safety, and a few broken ribs. Celia had sprained an ankle, but that was all. Jelanda herself had only bruises and a severe lack of sleep to worry about. The only one visible on her while wearing her dress was a small purple area forming on her left cheek, but she explained this away by saying that she had tripped on the stairs that afternoon.

She met her father in the dining hall, where they sometimes shared private dinners on rare occasions when he had the luxury of time. Jelanda had always reveled in these gatherings in the past, and knew that she should not have heard yet about anything horrible happening today; so she attempted to put on a cheery face for her father. This was hard to accomplish with the way that she felt inside, but she managed to fool him, at least. She looked down at the meal. It was something with caviar and truffles again, and she did not feel like eating anything at all. No one cared as long as they weren't being scolded for it.

"My dear girl," the king said affectionately, while grasping Jelanda's hand. "I have some terrible news to pass on to you today."

"Oh?" Jelanda answered innocently enough to pass as oblivious.

"Yes, yes," he cooed. Jelanda usually fawned in all of his attention, but now it seemed like he was talking to a small child rather than a young lady. "I know how much you wanted a new mother, and I want you to know that I _tried_. However, the woman who I considered worthy of you passed on yesterday, and so I don't believe that I will be remarrying any time soon. I am so sorry, dear."

Every part of that was so preposterous that Jelanda almost laughed. The very idea of Leone marrying someone like her father now seemed ridiculous. She was able to answer honestly, though. "Oh, that's okay, Daddy," she said sweetly. "I never really wanted a new mother," in fact, she had reviled the very thought, "just having you is all that I need."

"I am so pleased to hear that," he answered. She wondered how he had gotten the wild idea that she wanted a mother. She was old enough not to have one. It crossed her mind that perhaps he had invented the idea to justify his own urge to remarry.

There was a silence then. Jelanda expected to hear about the shrine, but her father said nothing. "Was there anything else that happened?" she asked.

"Yes, I was planning to tell you later after you'd had a chance to calm down," he answered. "But seeing as how you are not upset, I suppose now is as good a time as any." Jelanda had to fight not to groan. She was as far from not upset right now as anyone could be. It was relieving to know that her act was working well enough, though. Her father went on. "Yesterday, forces from Villnore interrupted an attempt on my part to obtain the Dragon Orb. Not only did they ruin the shrine, but it seems that they have taken the Dragon Orb as well, for it wasn't found at the site."

Jelanda sighed. They believed it was Villnore. That was the best situation she could hope for. Leone would be remembered as a hero, and Lawfer and Celia would never be questioned.

"Because this presents such a horrible situation, I have decided to send you to some of our allies in Crell Monferaigne where you will be safe no matter what happens. You are what is most important to me, after all."

Jelanda put her fork down and had to venture a bit into this. Perhaps it was simply to see if Leone was right. "Don't you think that sending your daughter to safety will send a poor message to the kingdom?" she asked as politely as she could. "If it is all right for me to abandon Artolia, then what is to keep our own people from leaving when we need them the most?"

"I just want you to be safe, my dear," he answered. "It would destroy me if anything were to happen to you."

"I know," Jelanda replied. "You are a good father, and I love you. But, if I may, I would like to stay by your side. You are important to me as well."

Jelanda watched as her father frowned sadly, but gave no sign of protest. "If you wish," he said. "You are a brave girl, my Jelanda."

Jalanda smiled at this, though part of her was sad to hear it. She thought of Lawfer and Celia and hoped that they were doing well. Most of all, she hoped that Leone was content, wherever she was now.

Perhaps Leone was now in Asgard, serving the gods as loyally as she had served her comrades.


	2. The Fields of Asgard

**Valkyrie Profile: **  
Chapter 2: The Fields of Asgard

(1)

Asgard was often mistaken by those who entered to be paradise. Its perpetually blossoming flowers releasing their white petals into the air and the golden light that poured from above would give anyone from the earthly domain of Midgard that impression. The hallways of Valhalla were splendorous, and now there were even more reasons for humans to thank their lucky stars (if not the gods) that they had earned the right to pass through its breathtaking gates. The magnificent corridors where now filled with food, song, and all of the comforts an Einherjar might miss from home--all of this part of the new Asgard, of course.

But if you asked Freya, the goddess of creation and lady of Valhalla, then this was not paradise at all. Though the fantastic surroundings had long grown stale to her, now one of the eldest gods, Valhalla had become particularly more undesirable as years dragged on. With their war against the undead resolved and the threat of Ragnorok lying somewhere in the future, the Einherjar within the halls had long fallen out of practice. They took the once highly prized opportunity to walk among the noble Aesir for granted, as if something entitled them to be here other than their ability to fight. She scowled as she passed by a group of them feasting in one of the innumerable halls and quickly teleported herself away so as to be free of their presence. Soon Ragnorok would come, and Freya, though she loathed to say such a thing, could not wait for the day.

She asked herself, were the other gods not enraged? Then she supplied her own answer--of course not. Her own sister Frei had taken a great liking to the new king, and everyone else was not far behind. After taking the throne, he had gone to great lengths to satisfy each god's concerns. Even Vidar, the true successor of Odin, was grateful when this new king promised to honor his claim to the throne of Aesir after Ragnorok. Odin himself had taken measures to ensure that this would never happen. Likewise, Thor had grown suspicious of Odin, who very nearly allowed Midgard to fall to destruction by stealing the Dragon Orb. One by one, Idun, Tyr, Eir, Ull, Hodur, Hermod, Mimir--each of them found some reason to support the new ruler; but not Freya. Freya was vexed.

It took a deal of growing accustomed to for the proud Aesir, but over a span of a few centuries, the younger ones especially had begun to intermingle with the new king and his beloved Einherjar. Here was a king who cared for them as individuals, though gods required no such sentiment. The Einherjar, unsurprisingly, were fully supportive of him, one who was more of their own kind than truly a god. This left Freya herself as the only one who stomped through Valhalla these days in a huff denouncing the lowly inhabitants of Midgard.

She appeared in her usual whirl of lights in the throne room with all of its golden splendor to find the king absent from the throne where he rightly belonged. Rather, he was standing aside, speaking with an Einherjar. She knew that he avoided that chair as much as possible because it had been Odin's seat. Not that the young lord had any respect for the late one, he was simply "trying to consider her feelings" as he himself once said. To think that she, a goddess, would be plagued by such mortal sentiment was the worst offense of all. She denied Odin's ghost which seemed to look upon her each time she glanced at the empty chair. She watched the stupid grin on his face and how his ponytail swung behind him with all of his energetic movements instead.

"Ah, Freya," Rufus greeted her in a friendly manner. He was standing around with some sort of musician holding a stringed instrument. "Listen to this guy! He's not all that handy at fighting, but I think he might be the most talented player in all the worlds, and who knew?"

"Musical talent is not a qualifier for Einherjar!" Freya boomed. Her voice carried a dominating force that Rufus had learned to ignore, but which scared the wits out of the poor musician. "I must speak with you, _now_."

"Well, I'm in for it," Rufus groaned, and slapped his new petrified friend on the shoulder. "Go play your songs for the Einherjar to your heart's content, all right?" The young man ran from the room as if Queen Hel herself were behind him. Freya did like to think that she was the more intimidating of the two.

"What's wrong with it?" Rufus complained, once the Einherjar had gone. "Human armies fight with music to march to, and Einherjar _are_ humans, as you seem to forget."

"I will let that matter pass for the time being," Freya said frigidly. The truth was that she didn't care about the musician. "I have more important matters to discuss. Namely, the fact that there has not been a Valkyrie upon Midgard in centuries, and time is growing short. We have waited far too long, and yet the souls of the Valkyries have not been freed from their human hosts."

"Huh?" Rufus turned to her with a bovine expression, completely blind-sided by this news. "It's not as if Ragnorok is right around the corner, you know. Since the big show down, there hasn't been much demonic activity on the surface, either. There's simply no need for Valkyries, and I'd rather let all three of them live normally for as long as possible."

"Ragnorok was delayed by those events, yes," Freya agreed while trying to hide her opposition to that very thought so that she might persuade him, "but it has not been postponed indefinitely. The forces of Surt and Hel are beginning to move. If you do not have Valkyries to supply us with Einherjar as well as armaments from Midgard, we will fail in the first encounters!"

Rufus sighed. His shoulders seemed heavier than Freya believed they should be. "Freya," he said, "I will leave the decision to you. You're the expert on Ragnorok and Asgard, I'm just here to oversee."

"That disgraces me," Freya said bluntly. "If you are going to pose as my lord, at least take the responsibility as your own rather than bending to your subordinate's will."

Rufus began to laugh, which Freya did not expect. "Every ruling party needs a dissenting voice or two," he said. "The other gods just listen to whatever I say, but I have no clue what I'm doing. If you think we need a Valkyrie, I won't argue. But... do I really have to use the Sovereign's Rite?"

"If you are so much as able," Freya responded, doubting that Rufus could even cast the spell. "I do not understand why you would not."

"If I'm not mistaken, it's Lenneth's turn," he explained. "Well... suppose she's out there having a great time. Say she's married, and maybe even has a few kids for all that I know. If I use the Sovereign's Rite, it will uproot her completely from wherever she is at the moment, won't it? And erase all of her memories..."

Freya was enraged by this petty and insignificant problem. "The human life of a Valkyrie is none of our concern!"

"I stand by it," Rufus said firmly, refusing to back down. "You are the expert on Asgard, but when it comes to disturbing life on Midgard, my rules are absolute."

"You know," Freya began, not for a minute buying his adamant posture. She crossed her arms and waved her hand as if to banish him from her sight, if only she could. "Speaking in that manner does not suit you at all. You are a long way from sounding like a king even still."

Rufus released a tense breath and slacked his shoulders, throwing off the entire bluff. "I'll admit I really had to force it out. Just let me handle Midgard, okay? That includes the Valkyries. Aren't there any other options at all?"

"Truthfully, we do not normally just pull a Valkyrie out of her life if it can be helped... it creates a stir. Lenneth is supposed to be between incarnations at the moment, but she is not for some reason."

"Ah," Rufus nodded, greatly relieved. "We can't predict everything... so what else can we do?"

"I suppose that we will have to wait until one of them dies," Freya explained with a sigh. "I would move to expedite the process if possible, even."

"Whoa--whoa! Wait," Rufus interrupted, holding his hands up. "You mean to kill the human whose soul currently holds the Valkyrie? No way, I won't allow it. I thought you'd grown to have at least that much respect for mortals."

"Hardly!" Freya suppressed a frustrated groan. "Then we must wait and hope that soon enough one will fall. This worries me. Lenneth was supposed to have been available at this point, yet I do not sense her presence through the great tree Yggdrasil. I assume that she is still upon Midgard, though her time is long past."

"You mean to say that she's lived longer than predicted?" Rufus asked. "Is that bad?"

Freya sighed. "It is never a good sign when things go against the prophecy."

"I disagree," Rufus replied bluntly, and pointed his finger at her as was his habit when he was excited about something. "That prophecy is what dooms us all to fail in Ragnorok! This is a great sign, since it means that we can change the future. Isn't it?"

He shot her a cocky grin that would surely have won the hearts of most of her fellow gods--goddesses particularly. The Aesir were not accustomed to such lines of thought. Absolutes were set in stone for the Aesir, and here was this new king telling them that it is acceptable to stand against that current. Despite her immense frustration with his refusal to allow even the most minor interference with Midgard, Freya could not help but smile a bit at his optimism. Rufus wasn't allowed to see this, of course. She turned herself away.

"In the meantime," Rufus said, "I'll have the Einherjar prepare themselves... You really are sure that Ragnorok is coming?"

"The undead are not stirring, just as you predicted, thanks to your agreement with Brahms, as much as it shames me," Freya answered, "but Surt of the Vanir will rise against us any day now, as will Hel of the underworld."

"I see," Rufus replied. "Well... we've been preparing for this for centuries. Certainly we can handle things without bothering the great Valkyrie spirit for at least a little while."

Then, once again, he shrugged as if he had not a care or worry in the world. Sometimes she wanted to strike him for that aloof gesture. She knew that she could, and that he'd let her get away with it. Despite their loyalty, none of the other gods would rush to defend him if it was Freya who hit him. All the same, she couldn't kill him, and he did have his right to be here just as Odin did. Furthermore, as king of the Gods, he could have re-written her very existence by now, but he allowed her to go on unchanged, despite the fact that she originally regarded him as an enemy. She wondered if that was merciful or respectful of him, or if it was some sort of punishment.

Her glance traveled up the red carpet to the foot of the golden chair. There upon the throne where Rufus felt uncomfortable to sit, Odin's image still appeared in her mind looking upon her with such pride and absolute trust. This was not freedom for her. She considered her pride broken and her fate sealed; she was merely existing rather than blindly following and did not know how much better it was that way. She felt a painful wound, though Gods were not permitted such trifling emotions.

Freya sneered. "Your human sentiment will be the end of us."

She left him with that last statement, not a new one to him either.

(2)

There was one area of Valhalla that was still remote enough to offer Freya a moment of peace, and that was the bridge which connected the main hall to the tower where treasures such as the Water Mirror were kept. It loomed above the fields providing a magnificent view of Asgard, and few Einherjar dared to cross it.

High above the blossoming plains of the gods, the breeze blew gently with just a slight chill that Freya welcomed as it swept through her hair. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. No sooner had she filled her lungs than she felt another presence and sharply blew the breath out, obviously annoyed.

"What are _you _doing here?" she asked bitterly.

"I believe that you may be a bit more fond of our new lord than you are willing to admit," came a familiar voice, and not one she particularly liked to hear by any means. Here was Loki, suddenly on the bridge where there had just been no one. His current appearance as a young man of unremarkable stature and build belied his true power, and she was wise enough to be on her guard.

"What business of it is yours?" Freya asked him in a forceful tone. "Explain your presence or be gone."

Loki smiled, feigning innocence. "I have to admit that even I like him; he does keep things _interesting_ in these painfully dull times at the least."

"And you would see blood shed if it meant a bit of entertainment?" Freya asked him in a snide tone.

"Let's face it, blood will be let upon the ground soon enough, you and I both know it." He sighed and clicked his tongue as if this was a terrible shame, but nothing that he was all too concerned with. "I'd rather not see more of the Aesir's blood than the Vanir's if it could be at all helped, just like anyone else."

"I'm not sure what it all matters to you," Freya replied. "You who are half Aesir and half Vanir. I'm not quite sure why Odin tolerated your presence, trickster of the gods."

"If the Aesir fall, then the entire world will crumble," Loki answered, without responding to the barb. "Only a suicidal fool would want that to happen."

"It makes me wonder why the Vanir are so bent on destruction," Freya said, agreeing with at least part of what he was saying. "But you have yet to tell me why you are here, and I know that you have not simply come to chat."

"Ah, shrewd as ever," Loki replied with a playful lilt. "It's a simple fact. No one wants the world to end, and while Lord Rufus may be the most fun Asgard has had in an epoch, he isn't quite up to par when it comes to leadership is he? I have noticed a significant lack of Valkyrie presence as of late. What has it been? Six hundred years? Eight hundred? Time flies, doesn't it?"

"I have the feeling that you are going to suggest that I do something about it," Freya answered.

"Half the dead are in your name, are they not?" Loki explained, referring to an old and long-forgotten law. As much as Rufus denied it, Freya was the valkyrie's leader, and could chose any Einherjar to follow her. "If you so wanted, you could have your own great hall, one to put Valhalla to shame. Not that I so much as care for what little remains of the pride of the gods, but you could attempt to restore it."

"This is quite impossible with no Valkyrie in service," Freya pointed out, growing more frustrated by the moment. "I am still at a loss as to how this would benefit _you_, Loki."

"Ah," he answered with a growing air of confidence. "The thing is, I've got a bit of information that you are likely to want."

"What would that be?" Freya asked, then carefully, "And what would your price be for it?"

"I simply want to go to Midgard without our mortal-friendly lord catching wind of things," he said. "Our young king has forbidden access to the bridge, you know. If you could perhaps have the guards too occupied to watch the bridge tonight, that would be enough. Asgard is just getting a bit too boring for me and I'm thinking of taking a holiday."

Freya knew that whatever Loki planned to do on Midgard would not be as innocent and harmless as he wanted it to sound. On the other hand, his information was usually very good and she could care no less for what mischief he had in store for the world of Midgard so long as it would not affect Asgard. "I'll agree to this," Freya said. "Now, you had best have something important to say, or I'll not hold to my bargain."

"Oh, you will like this," He said, laughing in a way that was not humorous in the least. "I happen to know the current whereabouts of Hrist Valkyrie's human host. Though Silmeria is indeed my favorite, it would no doubt be best to find the loyal Hrist in order to prepare for these events, wouldn't it? Especially since the lord seemed so fond of that host Silmeria was in..."

"Where is she?" Freya answered, refusing to let that last statement needle under her skin in just the way that Loki no doubt knew that it would.

"Artolia," Loki replied. "She goes by the name Leone, and I believe that she works as a mercenary or a soldier of some kind at the least. Is this good enough for my reward?"

"I would like to know how you, who cannot reach Midgard without my help, came about this information," Freya responded suspiciously.

"Now, I'm afraid I can't reveal _all_ of my secrets," Loki replied. "I expect you to hold your end of our bargain. You know that I'll find some other way of extracting the debt if you do not."

"You'll have your unannounced passage to Midgard," Freya promised. "Now, if that is all, please get out of my sight. I am trying to enjoy this breeze."

"Enjoy it as you will, Lady Freya." With that, he was gone. Only the rush of the wind remained to accompany Freya, who pondered whether she had just done something foolish under the provocations of Loki, or if this was actually the best news that she had heard in centuries.

As she returned her eyes to the fields, a sight that she had seen thousands, perhaps millions of times, she made up her mind. It was time to go and retrieve Hrist Valkyrie.

(3)

Since returning to Asgard from the Tower of Lezard all of those years ago, Rufus considered himself much older, though his body had not changed at all, and despite the fact that he was still referred to as the "new king" or the "young lord." He finally understood that there was one defining difference between gods and mortals, and that was the simple passage of time. Now he knew why gods prohibited themselves from experiencing human emotions. It was just too terrible a thing to exist forever with feelings of attachment or hatred in one's heart.

His first thought after letting the matter of Ragnorok sink in (it took a while) was that just maybe it might give him the chance to retire, to fade out of this life and return to Midgard as reborn soul like Alicia had. That was an attractive prospect. Still, he could never leave until he was entirely certain that the world's stability would be ensured by the next ruler of Asgard. He trusted that Freya, though she disliked humans, was a fair ruler who realized the importance of Midgard in relation to Asgard. In fact, she might reject the idea of taking from Midgard without giving in return, as that would shame the gods. He wondered if she had ever realized that pride was also a human emotion, just as much as love or sympathy.

He couldn't appear too eager to die though, he thought while laughing aloud to himself. That certainly wouldn't be encouraging. So what was the first thing to do? He had studied the typical army structure and tactics as much as he possibly could in the last few hundred years, and knew it front to back. Freya doubted his ability to put it into practice obviously, but he would show her. The first thing to do was assign captains. These would have to be people who he knew and trusted, as well as ones who had proven their dedication. They would be in charge of coordination, morale, and things like that. There was one group whom he was eager to cast in the role.

Back in Silmeria's time upon Midgard, she had collected several Einherjar to send to Asgard, and was still holding them when Odin became furious with her and had her reborn into a human host. Thanks to the disrupted nature of her transfer, not only was Alicia born with a soul of her own in addition to Silmeria's, but the many Einherjar whom Silmeria had gathered were inside of her as well. Those Einherjar were materialized by Silmeria in the course of their journey, but because of her falling out with Odin they were unable to be sent to Asgard when they were ready. Instead of allowing their souls to dissipate, Silmeria released them upon Midgard once they were able to maintain their physical form without her presence.

Since then, those Einherjar had been walking upon Midgard. Many of them attempted to resume normal lives, but very few succeeded in this. Their eras were different and they were all warriors at heart during peaceful times. Rufus remembered the day that he first saw one of them again. It was Kraad, an energetic heavy knight, trying to cross the bridge Bifrost. Behind him there were others who had all joined together in a pact to fight their way to Valhalla or die happily in the process, but he most vividly remembered Kraad waving his sword in the air and shouting, "Hey, where's this Ragnorok thing everybody's talking about? I came for the party!" Those who had traveled to the Forest of Spirits and navigated their way through its magical maze to find the rainbow bridge and the passage to Asgard all in the name of a good fight must surely be quality material for captains.

He stood from his seat--not on the throne but on one of the steps in front of it--no one was around to see him anyway--and slid open the doors of the throne room. "Hey, Frei!" he shouted with a hand cupped to his mouth. "Are you around, Frei?"

The younger sister of Freya appeared in a flash. "I'm right here," she said teasingly, "and Lord Rufus, you know how Freya hates your shouting in the halls!" With that, she laughed cheerily. Rufus wondered how one could be so completely different from the other.

He gave an awkward half-smile. "Oh, I've made sure Freya will be staying far away from me for a while already," he said.

"Is that so?" Frei smirked. "Just what did you do this time?"

"Ah, nothing more than the usual," Rufus shrugged. "Listen, I have a list of Einherjar that I would like you to gather together and bring them back here as soon as you find them all. Can you do that?"

"Yes sir!" she replied, and smiled brightly. "Who do you want?"

"Kraad, Mithra, Celes, Phyress, and Sylphide," he said. "Tell them that I have work for them to do."

"Oh, how interesting!" Frei answered. "I will get them right away!"

The youthful goddess was out in the blink of an eye, and Rufus returned to the throne room. He smiled, feeling a spark of excitement in himself as well. Peace was his ultimate goal, but if battle was unavoidable, then he would win it.

(4)

The world of mortals was one that Freya despised. The shackles of flesh which human souls paraded about in and so highly valued made her sick. She wished to find Hrist Valkyrie immediately and take her leave of this place. There was also the concern of Rufus discovering her plot if she was gone for too terribly long. It would shame her to be found guilty of betraying her lord, even if that lord was no longer Odin.

She entered the city of Artolia in the dress of a human, though it made her feel unclean to be seen this way. That was only more reason to have this business done quickly. Her plan was to stop the first human she saw and demand information of them until she found Hrist. It unsettled her deeply to think of noble Valkyrie stuck in these conditions, and once again she wondered why Rufus would ever believe that this existence was better for them.

The first person she spotted in town was a young girl no more than eight years old carrying a pail with a spout for watering. Freya decided that this subject would be as good as any. "You there!" she called in a great booming voice.

The small girl was so startled by her voice that she tripped over one of the cobblestones sticking up in the street and fell. She landed on her hands and knees with a few scraps and yelped in pain. Her bucket was overturned and the water it held splashed all over her and the ground below her. It quickly seeped between the cracks of the cobblestones and was gone. "Oh no!" the little girl cried.

"I am speaking to you, common girl!" Freya snapped.

The little girl hurried to her feet and bowed apologetically. "I am sorry lady, I--"

"Do you know the name Leone?" Freya asked, without caring to hear the girl's excuses. The child looked up at her blankly. "Tell me quickly or be off with you!"

"Who is that?"

"I believe that she is a mercenary in this city."

The little girl smiled revealing a missing tooth which Freya found extremely unattractive. "You should go the Dragon Tavern, that is where those tough people like to hang out! My mother says I'm not allow--"

"Where is it?" Freya cut her off again.

"Up the street," the girl said and pointed. Then she looked sadly down at her feet and crouched next to the pail. "Aw... it's cracked... mother will be angry and I won't be able to water my flowers today..."

Freya was already pressing onward with little regard for the rest of the girl's life when she heard a small sniffle and turned back to face her. This ridiculous human emotion had to have some sort of explanation. She wished to know why Rufus coveted it so dearly. "Why do you care for the water?" she asked.

"Oh..." the girl looked up at Freya who was no doubt intensely beautiful and intimidating to a child of such low class. "My father brought me some seeds, they're special. I used the water to turn them into flowers. Then butterflies come, and birds come and make baby birds!" She explained this with the awe and fascination of someone who has only briefly existed upon this world. This more than anything threw Freya off; she was not accustomed to youth. To her, Rufus was just a child. She could not fathom a creature with this much inexperience in the world. The girl went on. "Mother found me a pail just for me but it's broke now..."

Here was a tiny human attempting to capture the spark of life with such base instruments as a pail of water. Still, Feya found it strangely admirable that a human would practice her own art, that of creation, despite their powerlessness. A few flowers, insects, and birds were nothing to the mighty goddess, but to think that they could be grown with little more than water and proper attention was interesting. Could this be what Rufus found so enchanting about mortal struggle? While she felt that it was amusing, it was not _that_ impressive.

In disbelief, she found herself bending over to pick up the broken pail. In her hands which brimmed with the greatest power of materialization in existence it was quickly mended, and the water returned to its former place. She held the repaired bucket to the girl. "Do you see how simple it is for me, and how hard it is for you?" she asked, annoyed.

The girl looked at the pail full of water and smiled brightly. "Ah!" she squealed happily. "That's amazing! How did you get the water back inside?"

Freya sighed. This was useless. Mortals could never be understood. "It's magic," she explained briefly, and walked away without listening for reply or saying anything more. None of this mattered.

(5)

Rufus soon stood among several familiar faces. He used to know very little about them, as they only appeared in battle. You learned many intimate details about the way a person moves and thinks in battle, but as for their personal lives, he had known nothing at all. Since their arrival in Asgard, he had gotten to know each of them better, just like all of the Einherjar. It wasn't that he was trying to earn their favor, he just found himself extremely bored and often wandered the halls for anyone to talk to. When he remembered how Silmeria had spotted him thanks to his old reclusive nature, it made him want to laugh.

"Greetings, Einherjar!" he said to each of the five standing in front of him. "I hope that each of you is ready for some action."

"Please!" Kraad exclaimed right away. "My sword is getting rusty!"

"We didn't come here to lounge about and drink ale," Phyress, still looking no more than seventeen despite her actual matured age, added to that.

"If he has called us here with a promise of battle," Celes explained, "it means that Ragnorok must be upon us."

"That is correct," Rufus said, happy that he wouldn't have to explain himself. "I would like to appoint each of you to a leadership position because I believe that each of you knows the Einherjar better than the gods. At the same time, the gods are the ones who are familiar with both the terrain and our enemy. That means that all of us will need to work together. Fundamentally, I guess I'd like for the five of you to be the line of communication between the gods and the Einherjar soldiers. Do you understand? Do you think that you can do it?"

"Yes," Celes replied at once. "I am honored to lead your warriors."

"We'll have to see whose unit is the best," Phyress said in challenge.

Rufus smirked, always amused by the interactions of Celes and Phyress. In life they were sisters, both brilliant leaders, yet separated on the battlefield until one killed the other. Being in Valhalla had the mystifying ability to reunite everyone to a single side, regardless of their prior experiences. These two in particularl had begun anew, but still as rivals.

"I will do what you ask of me," Mithra said. Rufus was glad to hear his voice; his only worry was that the man rarely spoke and that could be detrimental to his leadership abilities. Otherwise, Mithra was a great choice for his ability to remain consistently calm no matter what the situation; and of course, to fear neither pain nor death.

"I'm glad to hear it," Rufus replied. "I know that Kraad is in. How about you, Sylphide?"

"I'm not sure why you would have chosen me," she replied. "I am willing to fight, but shouldn't I be serving Lady Phyress?"

"You're going to be the leader of a special medical unit," Rufus explained. "It will comprise any warriors or mages who have healing abilities."

"That sounds like a good idea," Phyress said. "I know that you can do it, Sylphide."

"Thank you, Lady Phyress!" Sylphide responded with renewed confidence.

"Phyress," Rufus went on, "You'll be leading an archer's division, and Celes, you'll have the light warrior division. Kraad will have the heavy warriors, and Mithra will have the mages."

"I've never really led a bunch of people like this!" Kraad said. "You sure I'm okay?"

"Your enthusiasm alone is more than worth it," Rufus replied with a laugh.

Sylphide smiled at Kraad. "Guilm can help you," she said.

"Right, and Celes, you better take good care of my Circe," he laughed.

"Of course," Celes replied.

"All right, then!" Rufus said, very happy that this was going so well. "I hereby promote you all to the rank of God General! Your first task will be to train your respective Einherjar for combat and make sure that everyone is ready for war. I think most of us have gotten a bit lazy after such a long period of peace."

"It would be beneficial," Celes added, "if we could acquire new Einherjar. Our numbers are not bad, but we will inevitably lose lives."

Rufus thought that wasn't such a bad thing. Einherjar killed in battle were reborn on Midgard without any memory of their past lives. There was the issue of keeping their ranks filled, however. "We are arranging for a Valkyrie to be among us again," he said carefully. Best not to let too much speculation grow before facts were decided upon.

"That's great!" Kraad exclaimed. "Which one?"

"We don't know yet," Rufus answered. "It may still take a long time."

Kraad's excitement shone in his eyes as he went on. "Oh man, I hope it's Silmeria! But hey, do you think it could be Alicia? She's kind of like a Valkyrie! I would really like to see her again!"

Phyress leaned towards him and kicked him lightly in the back of the leg. "Quiet, you!" she snapped at him in a whisper.

"Ow," Kraad complained, also whispering, though Rufus could hear every word. "I don't see what the big deal is..."

"I'm pretty sure it'll be either Hrist or Silmeria," Rufus said, avoiding that topic altogether. No one pushed it onward, and he was grateful. "Anyway," he continued, "I'll be making an announcement about this shortly. Until then, start planning and working with your units. You are dismissed."

The five new generals each seemed excited in their own way as a result of this news. Even Mithra raised the brim of his hat a bit so that his face was visible. Rufus watched as they began to talk amongst themselves, and then went out to greet their Einherjar. A wind swept through the great hallways of Valhalla carrying the news. Soon they were bustling with activity, and Rufus had to do nothing but watch, amazed at how well Valhalla was able to run itself.

(6)

After speaking to more mortals than Freya would have liked to in a thousand years, she determined that the human named Leone was headed for a shrine just outside of town for some sort of expedition. Without wasting a bit of time, she teleported herself through magic to that area. There, she found a shrine that she had never seen before. It must have been relatively new (for Freya, meaning in the last millennium). Monuments to the gods always amused her, and this time especially so, considering that Rufus had removed all godly presence from Midgard, yet they still worshipped blindly.

She spotted the black-haired warrior woman entering the shrine and new immediately that yes, this was Hrist's vessel. From then on she could feel the presence of a divine spirit though it had been greatly muted and dulled to almost nothing inside of that human host. It seemed that her group was attempting to raid the shrine for whatever petty reason, and she would take advantage of this.

She waited until the group of a few mercenaries plus one younger girl (all who would make fine Einherjar, she noted) reached their goal, only to find that nothing was there. Were they honestly searching for the Dragon Orb? Freya knew that no one had heard from the Orb Guardian in centuries unless, as she sometimes suspected, Rufus met with him in secret on certain occasions. The orb certainly wasn't being kept here in Artolia. Rumors could help to hide its true location, she imagined--but she had to move now, for apparently Hrist was able to sense her presence. This was not surprising, but it could be unfortunate for her later if any memories remained.

"Great dragon, lost soul from the halls of the dead," she called in words that the humans would be unable to hear. "Come forth and claim the spirit of Hrist Valkyrie for Asgard, and your debt shall be repaid."

It was unpleasant to deal with such despicable creatures, but they were endlessly useful. The zombie dragon appeared and did his work cleanly, so well that the humans would never suspect any sort of interference from divine forces.

Freya was gone long before Leone was dead. She had to return and be there with Rufus when he received the news. Not only that, but she was eager to be in Asgard again. The human world was one she hoped never to visit again for centuries to come.

(7)

When she arrived in Asgard once more, she began to wonder what sort of attitude she should have upon meeting Rufus again. She was more relieved now than she had been upon leaving for Midgard, but that might appear suspicious. A dull pit began to grow in her stomach the more she thought about lying and hiding things from her lord, and soon she realized that she did not want to lie to him. She did not want to be disloyal to Rufus, though he had once attempted to kill Odin and was not her idea of an ideal lord. The twisting feeling that wrenched in her gut as she approached Valhalla was so alien and unusual to her, she wondered if she had not caught some disease on Midgard, despite being impervious to such as a goddess.

Upon entering the hall she was cured of this ailment by unexpected circumstances. During her brief absence, the entire hall had been completely overwhelmed by an immense change. The Einherjar who would normally be found sleeping anywhere they could lay down, drunk on ale and full on the endless supply of food, were running back and forth carrying weapons in their arms and shouting instructions energetically.

A female warrior along with a few more male and female of her class stood aside as Freya entered the hall and stood up straight and at attention. "Greetings, Lady Freya!" she spouted with great reverence. "Please depend on us to defend you in the upcoming battles!"

"You mean to say that all of you are preparing for Ragnorok?" Freya asked, shocked.

"Yes, Lady Freya!" one of the young men in the group answered. "Do you have any orders for us?"

"Not currently," Freya replied, trying to mask her complete surprise. "Where is Lord Rufus, do you know?"

"In the throne room, I would assume," said one.

"Be on your way," Freya commanded, and continued through the halls.

In each chamber of Valhalla there were Einherjar either organizing into groups or drawing up plans for meetings and practice. She walked in a daze, completely baffled by the sudden change.

In the throne room, she found Rufus actually sitting on the throne for once, though no one was present to witness it. As soon as she entered, he sprang up nervously. She closed the door behind her and then smiled. "Please remain seated," she said. "I see that you will sit there if I am gone."

"I was just testing it," Rufus said, taking his seat again. "I still don't like it, but I figure I've got to make an announcement this evening. Everyone's wound up."

"Yes, and I assume this is your doing?" Freya asked him, trying to forget about what she had just done in Midgard as if it hadn't happened. If she could do that, then perhaps this wouldn't be so hard.

"Yeah, I thought you'd be angry," Rufus sighed. "So what all did I do wrong? I'm prepared for the lecture, so just get it all out already."

"No," Freya replied with a kind tone that had been becoming more and more rare. "Though I would have advised against it, I'm actually impressed. I had no idea that the Einherjar would be so excited."

"They want to defend Asgard and Midgard alike," Rufus answered. "All I did was assign five leaders to the task of preparing them and communicating to the gods, and it's all gone off without a hitch."

At that point, Freya's good mood got a bit worse. "You did this without my approval?" she asked him. "I'm surprised by your willingness to take initiative, but I must insist that you allow me to make these sort of decisions!"

"I know," Rufus said. "And I shouldn't have let the word get out without making an announcement first to explain what is happening... all kinds of rumors are flying already."

"This could turn out to be quite a headache," Freya replied.

"I knew you wouldn't be satisfied," Rufus sighed. "I guess I acted a bit too rashly?"

"At least you are trying to act like a king," Freya replied. "I will trust your judgment this one time." She wasn't sure how much she trusted his decision in actuality, but now was not the time to pick bones. Nothing could be done about it in any case.

"Okay then!" Rufus exclaimed with a sigh of relief. "It'll work out, don't worry!"

Freya was disappointed to see him working so hard. It would be easier if he were to slack off and make her do everything. Even though he was enthusiastic, she still greatly doubted that he could handle the position of commander in a war of gods. It would be better to keep a leash on him and secure her own power in the meantime. The only reason she hated it was because Rufus was not someone who she honestly wanted to hurt.

(8)

There were flowers like Leone had never seen, thousands upon thousands of them. Each one was wasting its beautiful white petals into the sky. She looked down at her feet only to see that more were blooming all around her just as quickly as they were being blown away; it was a continuous cycle. This must be Asgard she thought, and the obvious analogy of flowers to men's lives that presented itself made the magnificent scenery somehow less than pleasant.

The killing blow might not have even been the most painful thing she had ever experienced, she thought with awe as she looked past the flower field to the other gardens in the distance upon enormous platforms and the and twisting stone columns that supported them. At least it looked like stone from here, it could have been wood from Yggdrasil itself as far as she knew.

"Hrist! Hrist!" came a shout, which surprised her. Somehow she hadn't expected to run into anyone so soon after dying. It was a young girl's voice, too. Leone turned to the source of the noise and found a wide-eyed young woman in an outrageous and yet somehow regal outfit sprinting towards her. "I can't believe it's really you! I'm so glad to see you again!"

Leone took a step back, examining her. She was blonde and had a strange hat, likely from some royal court that Leone had never heard of. After a moment's more thought, it seemed obvious that this was no dress of Midgard, but the garb of the Aesir.

Stunned by this cautious attitude, the girl stopped in her approach and frowned. "What's wrong, Hrist? Don't you recognize me at all?"

"I am afraid not," Leone answered. "You must have mistaken me for someone else."

"Oh, I know what happened!" the girl announced, and quickly her hand darted out to take Leone's. Then she began to drag her as if the two were best of friends. Leone wasn't happy with this level of familiarity from a stranger, but thought it best not to offend one of the Aesir.

"My name is Frei," she explained like a girl on the first day of school. "I'm Freya's sister. You _do_at least know that name right?"

"Yes," Leone replied and bowed, causing the girl's pace to be interrupted. "Forgive me, I was not aware that I was in the presence of a goddess."

"Don't bow to me, silly!" Frei laughed. "Freya will put you in your right place as soon as we see her, I'm sure!"

"Have I been chosen?" Leone asked, as Frei continued to pull her along. "I don't remember seeing a Valkyrie..."

"It'll all make sense really soon," Frei promised, but Leone was doubtful.

(9)

Leone was led by the girl into an extravagant building several stories tall. Everything passed by so quickly that she could hardly absorb the outside with all of its detailed carvings. The inside was even more amazing with a blood red carpet and golden corridors shining with radiant light in every direction. Most notable though was the fact that all of the chambers she was immediately led through were long hallways. These were the halls of Valhalla.

Frei pulled her at a running pace through the busy corridors filled with warriors preparing themselves for combat until they reached the largest door that Leone had ever seen in her life (not that this really counted as her life anymore, she thought). It was encrusted in silver, gold, and even more precious metals known only to the Aesir. Without heeding to knock, Frei pulled open the door with a great heave. "Oh good, you're both here!" she called to whomever was inside the room. "I've found Hrist! Do you believe it?"

Leone was too stunned by her surroundings to put up a fight as Frei pushed her into the room and then shut the door behind her with a loud clatter. She spun around and saw nothing but the fantastically elaborate design etched upon the gold door; the girl had completely abandoned her. There was a shrill giggle from the opposite side of the door, and then she heard from Frei no more.

Leone promptly turned back to the front to survey her surroundings, and then straightened up like a startled cat before quickly dropping to her knees. There was a man seated on a grand throne as well as a woman standing beside them and their identities were clear to anyone with the slightest knowledge of the gods.

"I can't believe it..." the man said in a low tone. "Just when we needed her..."

The woman seemed less surprised. A moment passed and she spoke. "No need for formalities," she said to the kneeling Leone. Her tone was friendly, but somehow Leone could imagine it getting a great deal icier. "Rise, and come forward, you are our friend."

Leone obeyed. Though smart enough to kneel before the gods, she was not completely without her own pride. If they told her that she was welcome, then she would stand and be heard. She got to her feet and took several steps forward. Closer, she could see that the woman was blonde like her sister, but much more mature. She wore an outfit in green with a similar hat. Freya, she had to be.

She looked directly into the woman's eyes. "Lady Freya, I presume." Then her eyes fell upon at the man sitting on the throne. He was a tall and lanky young man who looked uncomfortable in his almighty golden chair. With his long dark hair and youthful appearance he seemed a poor match for legend, but he wore suitable gold-trimmed clothing and a circlet around his head. Still, he sat upright in it with his hands nervously on his knees as if he hoped to rise from the seat as soon as possible.

"And you must be Lord Odin, the all-father," she said. "It is an honor to stand in your presence." How much of an honor it was, she could not determine at the moment. She had very little reason to admire or admonish the gods, they had simply been nonexistent in her life. Royalty though, that was something that Leone knew a great deal about. She respected good kings and hated bad ones, but served both loyally.

This particular king stared at her with wide green eyes shining like a child's and was stunned by her greeting. Leone found this extremely strange considering that he was a god and she was simply a mortal who had just gotten herself killed. Her quest had been a strange one, perhaps one of interest to the gods, but she had failed in her quest to find the Dragon Orb. A moment passed and he recovered from his apparent surprise.

"Wrong guy," the man then replied, then he laughed and shrugged casually. "I suppose the word hasn't quite gotten around Midgard yet."

"And well that it shouldn't," Freya snapped. Leone was taken back by how suddenly her tone changed to one of spite and disagreement. Though, whoever this man was, perhaps he had somehow previously earned the scolding.

"But this is great!" he exclaimed, despite the disapproval of his... queen, perhaps? Leone somehow doubted it. He then all but leapt from the great throne with a great lack of regality. "Sorry for the confusion, I'm king of the Aesir, if you'd believe it. But really, Hrist... don't you remember me at all?"

"I keep hearing the name Hrist," Leone replied, "yet I know it not."

Freya turned her nose upwards and folded her arms over her chest. She sat down in the seat he had abandoned and looked much more fitted to it than he had. "Just as you insisted," she sighed, "I have not touched her memory."

"I just wanted to avoid erasing her _current_memory," he complained, waving one arm lazily. "I don't suppose you can do both, now can you?"

"You expect me to do everything," Freya replied in mild annoyance. "I have not put a seal on her memory, the rest is up to her. Or could you perhaps use your great powers, my king?" There was plenty of sarcasm there. She sounded much like a teacher scolding a boy for not completing his homework.

"Whatever!" he retorted, throwing his arms up in defeat. "It's not like I get to practice this, you know!" This was definitely not the posture of a god. Then he turned to Leone and smiled. She saw in this compassionate expression that if not truly a god, then he was at least a kind person. "Forgive us," he pleaded. "You must be Leone."

"Yes, that is my name."

His smile widened in to a goofy grin. "Maybe this is a good thing! We can start over with a clean slate." Then he stuck out his hand to shake. "The name is Rufus, and I suppose that we're going to be partners! I hope you don't take this in offense, but you bit the big one just at the right time. I suppose it's fate, but we really needed you here!"

Freya sighed again in exasperation as Leone shook his hand. "Such casual speech... You've ruined anything remaining of the gods' nobility."

"Relax, Freya," Rufus groaned. Freya prickled visibly as he neglected to tack "Lady" or some other term of respect on the front of his address. "I don't see what the big deal is getting friendly with a Valkyrie, anyway."

Leone took her hand back and cocked her head trying to puzzle that one out. "Excuse me?"

"Whoops," Rufus said with a shrug. "Well, we have to get down to business eventually."

Freya stood from her throne. "You must know the tru--"

"Hey," Rufus said, interrupting her. "Let me handle this." He raised his arm to halt her, which made her so angry that her face wrinkled up to suggest her true age and she snarled. Even so, she threw herself back into the chair where she sat smoldering and, Leone assumed, dreaming up assassination plots while staring daggers into the back of Rufus's head.

Rufus paid no attention to this and continued on. "This may be hard to believe, and I will understand if you can't take it at face value, but the truth is that you, Leone, are the incarnation of a Valkyrie, chooser of the slain and goddess of fate. Your name in your past life as a Valkyrie was Hrist. You are Hrist Valkyrie." He then paused and leaned over slightly to gauge her reaction.

Leone had none at first. As a warrior, she had always considered the notion that she may be chosen as an Einherjar. Being the chooser of Einherjar was an idea completely foreign to her. Yet somehow, it did not seem entirely unnatural.

Her face held still and Rufus continued, although somewhat awkwardly. "Uh... well, it was actually your sister Lenneth who was supposed to have been the Valkyrie right now, but we can't seem to find her spirit anywhere. There's a good deal of back story concerning that, and I'm not sure how all of it works myself... So basically, we decided to wait until either you or Silmeria became available instead, and you just happen to be the lucky Valkyrie, I guess..."

"Strangely," Leone said at last, "this news does not strike me as impossible. Despite all that I have seen, I do not get the feeling that I am dreaming, nor do I believe that you, king of the Aesir, or Goddess Freya would be mistaken."

Rufus started at her half-witted for a moment. "So... that's it? You just accept it?"

Leone formed a fist with her right and held it firmly over her chest. She then bowed respectfully. "If my duty to the gods is to choose the slain, then I shall do it."

Dumbfounded, Rufus turned to Freya and pointed to Leone. "Do you believe this?"

Freya sneered and looked away as if Rufus repulsed her. "I told you that a Valkyrie's spirit is not so fragile a thing. If it were Lenneth or Silmeria we may have had a problem, but Hrist is a proud warrior and a Valkyrie of the gods to the end!"

"Well hold on a minute," Rufus argued. "I seem to remember Hrist using the Dragon Orb against you personally, and you not liking that very much."

"I was merely following Odin's orders," Freya snapped. "I didn't completely agree with him, and he's no longer here, so it hardly matters!"

Leone frowned and got the distinct impression that it mattered much more to Freya than she was willing to let show. The story fit together. Freya had been loyal to Odin and Odin was not here now. This Rufus was just a stand-in, that much seemed obvious to her. The gods and their dramas were none of her business, however. What interested her more was the mention of the Dragon Orb. Had she really used its power in a former life?

Rufus returned his attention to Leone. "Normally, the Valkyrie in question has no memory of her human life and carries out her duty as a goddess. But I've had Asgard take a decidedly pro-mortal stance ever since I was put in charge--" at this point, Freya huffed rather loudly, "--and I say that you should have a choice, although, I hadn't really counted on the fact that you would have no memory at all..."

"Memories of another life?" Leone asked. Then she looked down from Rufus in thought. "There is something wrong with that?"

Rufus smiled again. Despite his annoying attitude and his determination to get under Freya's skin, Leone could see that there was wisdom in him after all, as well as experience in many painful walks of life. "We have never performed the procedure this way, and we can't be one hundred percent certain what the effect on your current personality will be," he said. "You may not remember anything even still; you may just be yourself with some new memories; or... the other personality could be dominant, with memories of you as you are now only thoughts in the back of their head."

Leone was silent for a moment while pondering this deeply. All of her life, she had felt disconnected from others. Even though Lawfer and Celia's group had often invited her to join them, she never felt like a whole person, even when with her fellow mercenaries. Could there be something or perhaps someone missing, someone from her past that might fill that void with memories? She wondered about these "sisters" Rufus had mentioned. Leone had always been alone, never knowing the bonds of sisterhood. She realized that part of the reason she had tried so hard to reach out to Jelanda was to fill this void.

Whether or not this might fill her soul, she resigned herself to attempt it. "I've already died once today," she said, "and frankly Lord Rufus, that does not scare me."

"I suppose I've been too tender with you," Rufus said apologetically. "Well... if you are really sure, then I suppose... Freya?"

"Why do you look to me?" Freya replied. "You possess the powers, so try to use them."

"Heh... sure, I'll try," Rufus said uneasily. Leone was not sure that she trusted this trainee god of sorts, but went with it. "Prepare yourself," he said. "I will bestow upon you the powers of the Valkyrie spirit." He held his right hand out with his palm facing her and closed his eyes, obviously concentrating very hard. If he could try his best, then she would do the same.

Leone dropped to one knee and felt it right to close her eyes. She began to feel a strange warmth spread over her, like a gentle ray of light from the sun.

(10)

_A man is lying on his back in the middle of one of Valhalla's many hallways. Who is he? Why is he simply lying there, where anyone could trip over him? Do the gods allow this sort of slacking behavior from Einherjar? Leone thinks that perhaps under Rufus's leadership they do, though she somehow understands that what she is seeing happened long ago, some time before he took the throne._

_Leone watches as a Valkyrie warrior clad in beautiful violet armor and a helmet adorned with raven feathers approaches him. She is a mirror image of Leone. Leone is unsure whether this person is herself or an entirely different being, but obviously their connection is undeniable. She feels the strange urge to become like this person, and to help this person become more like herself all at once. _

_The Valkyrie speaks, but Leone cannot hear her. She sees that she is angry, no doubt scolding the reclining Einherjar. The man answers and continues to lounge about. Something about this man seems to reek of remorse rather than laziness, however. What is this feeling of abandonment that Leone feels as the Valkyrie walks away, leaving the man to his rest and his regret? What is she trying to accomplish, and why does Leone feel helpless despite all of this power that the Valkyrie possesses? _

(11)

As Leone opened her eyes again, she could feel an extraordinary power running through her body and in fact, her very soul. Though alien to her, she knew that it was the very energy of everything that existed as it flowed through the great tree, Yggdrasil, and then through herself. She felt as if she could almost sense the life of every living thing in the five worlds. It was an incredible sensation. When it receded, she could still feel the power at the back of her mind just waiting to be tapped into. She did not know how to tap into it at will, but it was comforting to know that it was there.

She stood and opened her eyes. "It looks great!" she heard Rufus say, exuberant though he sounded exhausted. She supposed that unlocking her powers had winded him. She glanced down at her body and saw that it was dressed in the same garb as that Valkyrie in her vision. Even her hair was longer than it originally had been. It felt like she was wearing a costume, that this was not quite herself; and yet it felt good. Despite the heavy helmet upon her head, she felt comfortable and lightfooted. The divine robes and dark violet armor were empowering to say the least. "So?" Rufus asked curiously. "Do you remember anything?"

"Only vague sensations," Leone answered. "I am afraid that I am bit overwhelmed. This... will take some getting used to."

"That is understandable," Freya told her in a sympathetic tone. Then, to Leone's surprise, the goddess stepped down from the throne and put her arms around her affectionately. The nature of Freya's personality was difficult to grasp, as she seemed to flip from one attitude to the other at the drop of a pin.

Leone felt stiff as the goddess embraced her warmly. Freya's skin was perfect and her hair was radiant. She smelled of flowers. Leone wondered if she possessed such traits in this strange new form, and made a mental note to subtly check a mirror whenever the next opportunity arose. Would it be another person looking back at her? That was the question.

"We will have a grand banquet tonight to celebrate your return, as well as Rufus's declaration of Ragnorok." With this last part, she glanced to Rufus. "You do understand that once the Vanir hear that we are preparing for war that they will attack even sooner, do you not?"

"Hey--it was gonna happen anyway," Rufus replied with a shrug. "We have a Valkyrie now, right?"

"Hmm," Freya made this sound in wary approval.

"What am I to do in preparation?" Leone asked. She was beginning to feel uneasy about her task, despite the strength and power that flowed through her. Choosing the slain was a rather vague job description. "I don't even know where to begin."

"Hey!" Rufus shouted, suddenly very excited again. "I'll show you around Valhalla and tell you all about your duties. It'll be great, the Einherjar will be happy to see you!"

"I agree that she will need some training before going out on her own," Freya added. "You do this, Lord Rufus. I will prepare for our announcement tonight."

"Great," Rufus replied, then made for the exit. He waved to Leone, who stood in place, still dazzled by everything. "Come on, Lady Hrist," he said, putting a playful tone into the name. "Ah, never mind that. I liked you better as Leone, anyway. Do you mind if I call you that?"

"Do as you wish," she replied.

Leone was never one to back down from a challenge, and though she proceeded into this with caution, she did so headfirst and bravely. She walked by Rufus's side, still finding it strange to suddenly be so familiar with the very king of all gods. This man was so affable and good-natured that it made it hard to think of him as such a high position. He reminded her of a fellow mercenary.

"You're a rather odd king," she said, no longer afraid to voice herself at all.

"Why do you say that?" Rufus replied. It was an unexpected answer.

"For one," Leone explained bluntly and without a bit of humor, "you haven't demanded my unwavering allegiance and respect," she said.

He smiled. Once again, it was a mix of both immature playfulness and underlying wisdom. "I believe that those things are to be earned, not demanded."

"Then a strange king you are," she replied, "but for that, I would gladly call you Lord Rufus." Leone was mistaken if Rufus did not redden a bit in the face at this statement.

(12)

A crowd formed almost instantly as Rufus led Leone out of the throne room. The Einherjar who were busy preparing, as well as the Aseir going about their daily business, all stopped in the midst of their tasks and turned their attention towards her. This is when Leone realized exactly how revered both Lord Rufus and herself (or at least "Hrist") were. She had been decorated for achievements in battle in her life and was well known in Artolia, but it was nothing like this. These people greeted her like a queen--no, they literally worshipped her. She was a goddess. That thought took some getting used to. She wondered if the fact that she could so willingly accept it meant that she was an arrogant person.

The halls were exquisite to say the least. Though finery and glamour appealed to her very little outside of keeping her personal appearance trim, she was thankful for the chance to view the halls at a slow pace and take in all of their wonders. Frei's sprint through the corridor had been too rushed for her to see anything at all.

Rufus kindly introduced her to the Einherjar. There was more of the identity confusion she encountered earlier. Many of them remembered her, and she could not place a single face. She had known several fallen heroes in her life, but none of her comrades from Artolia's mercenary army were here because a Valkyrie had not been active during their time. She wondered how many people on Midgard were terribly mistaken about the fate of their loved ones' souls.

The banquet was readied for the evening and every Aesir and Einherjar inhabiting Valhalla attended. Rufus was seated at one end of the long dining table with Freya at his right hand and Leone--or Hrist Valkyrie, as she reminded herself to think of as her name--was to his left. She begged the gods (and stopped herself of course, since it seemed redundant at this point) that no one would assume they were both escorting the young lord for the evening. Leone had had enough of rumors involving her entanglement with kings to last both lives during her previous one. Besides, though she was beginning to like Rufus as an associate, the very thought made her a bit sick.

Also at the table were five Einherjar who Rufus had assigned to positions of leadership to help organize the Einherjar and their activities. Each of these gave Hrist a cold glance here and there and said very little to her, though a couple of them were talking very loudly and casually to Rufus as if they were old friends. It was very different from the general uproarious reception that she was seeing thus far. In a way, it made her feel more comfortable. Enemies were more valuable than friends in some situations. At least she felt she could trust their words, since she doubted that they would buff her ego out of admiration for her new godly powers.

After everyone was seated and had been served glasses of water but nothing else just yet (this was an announcement that required sobriety), Rufus stood and looked for something to get the room's attention with. Everyone was talking quite enthusiastically. "Hey, listen up!" he shouted, and only the first two tables heard him and quieted themselves. This left about twenty more.

Freya looked annoyed for a moment at his inability to do this himself, but simply waited. At the same time, maybe she found the situation amusing. Hrist did not, however. She stood and drew her sword. The handle felt so comforting and familiar though she had never held it before. Holding it high in the air, she spoke loudly, "Silence! Your king speaks!" How loud it sounded, as if spoken through a horn, and yet how wonderful it felt to hear her own voice amplified with nothing but her own power flowing through her veins. Being a goddess was great indeed.

The entire hall fell silent. The sound of Hrist's sword sliding back into its scabbard was as clear as a morning chime as she returned it to her side and then sat down. Rufus grimaced and then cleared his throat. "Why thank you, Hrist," he said, albeit a bit sarcastically.

The mood changed instantly as Rufus addressed the dwellers of Valhalla. His eyes were bright and his voice was friendly. "Allies of the Aesir and our Einherjar!" he addressed them, "Our lands have known peace for centuries now, longer than any period before us; but now a time of war is approaching. The Vanir stir in Jotunheim, and in Nifelheim, Queen Hel is anxious for battle. We of the Aesir and the army of the Einherjar are all that stand between these forces and the lands of Asgard and Midgard."

He stopped there and looked to Freya. She gave him a rare nod of approval and waved her hand, so he continued. "This battle is not just for our lives or for our people, it is the fated battle to end the world, the conflict called Ragnorok. Prophecy says that this will be the last battle of our world, but I say..." He held his fist up and smiled as he said this, the crowd hung on his words and his confidence transmitted to them. "I say that if this is our last battle, it will be because we have ensured eternal peace in victory, and not the end of all things!"

After this was said, a great roar of applause with cheers and whistles swept through the hall. Hrist was particularly impressed at this moment. The strange king was good for something, after all. He knew the Einherjar and knew what they wanted to hear. But of course he had... if Hrist had heard correctly, Rufus himself had once been an Einherjar. As to which Valkyrie he belonged, no one seemed able to answer that question.

Finally Rufus held up his arms and Hrist confirmed that the modest streak she had noticed before really was there after all. Already, she had caught onto the fact that Rufus liked to boast and came off as downright arrogant most of the time, but yet he seemed unable to take a compliment. _What a strange king_, she thought again.

"Today," Rufus continued after the crowd had quieted down, "we have been reunited with Hrist Valkyrie, Chooser of the Slain! Most of you knew her well, but let's learn to know her again together, how about it?"

At this point, wine and ale were passed around the hall until everyone's cup was filled. Rufus waited for this, and then raised his glass. "Let's toast to Hrist Valkyrie, whose appearance is an omen of our ensuing victory!"

The multitude of tables full of Einherjar and Aesir erupted into a cheer and then everyone drank. Hrist soon learned that drinking was the favorite sport of the Einherjar; men and women of all ages and sizes chugged until they could see the bottom of their glasses. Even Rufus downed his cup before moving on.

"Now that that matter is taken care of," Rufus went on, "Let me introduce our new team of Einherjar leaders, the God Generals: Kraad, Mithra, Phyress, Celes, and Sylphide. They will be coordinating the actions of the Einherjar." There was another round of applause for these, not nearly as loud this time, but still enough of a roar to make the tables shake. "And you, our Einjerjar! Tomorrow we will begin the preparations for war. We'll have to train ourselves and hone every skill we possess to its finest--but for tonight, your assignment is to drink and have fun!"

Hrist's ears hurt after the noise following this last announcement. Yes, the Einherjar did appreciate a good party. Rufus took his seat once more, the musicians struck up a lively song, and the booze in everyone's cup was refilled. Shortly the food arrived all at once--no courses, just one never-ending feast that would last until each and everyone was too full to possibly eat any more. There was golden brown bread as light and fluffy as clouds, and there were all sorts of vegetables, roasted and fresh. There were meats from more kinds of animals than Hrist cared to count, but the main event was the amazing pork, juicy and dripping off the bones.

The king's private table was no more quiet than the others. Kraad and Phyress, the heavy warrior and archery specialists that Hrist had committed to memory, spoke loudly with Rufus, though Freya sat between them. This did not please Freya at all and she scolded Rufus in that booming angry voice that she often used rather than the sympathetic and motherly tone that was often directed at Hrist. The light warriors Celes and Sylphide laughed and made comments as well, though different as night and day the two of them were. The only silent one besides herself was the mage, Mithra, and no one seemed to find this odd of him.

"Are you not enjoying the party?" Rufus asked her. It had taken him a while to notice her silence, but then, she did suspect that he was at least half-drunk and probably all-drunk.

"Celebration is not my ideal activity," Hrist replied. "However, the food is quite good."

Rufus laughed loudly even though nothing appeared to be funny--more evidence in the case of intoxication. "I never thought I'd be hanging out with you like this!"

"Keep your composure, you fool!" Freya said with a scowl as she grabbed Rufus's newly refreshed cup of wine and drank it herself. She slid the water towards him.

Rufus sighed. "If this is what having a mother is like," he said, "I'm glad I never had one."

"Mother?" Freya spat, clapping both hands down onto the table. "That is insulting!"

"Oh come on, you're old enough to be everybody's mom," Rufus replied, laughing. A sober Rufus would have definitely not said that.

Hrist ignored this, however, and paid attention mainly to her food. Looking back on it, getting mauled by that dragon was not such a bad thing. That was the first moment in which she found herself wondering about Princess Jelanda, Lawfer, and Celia. Even an undead Dragon would keep his word, wouldn't he? Then she realized that even if not, it was no longer any of her concern. The entire event seemed so hazy and long ago, though not even twenty-four hours had passed. She was still the same person. Changing her name and appearance would not affect that.

The night drug on. Freya left early, tired of baby-sitting her lord. The Einherjar continued on and on until most of them had fallen asleep right in the middle of the halls. The Aesir either joined them or thought this unseemly and took Freya's lead on exiting early. When the time came for her to rest, Hrist was glad for it.

(13)

She was shown to a chamber where she could sleep. It was a beautiful room with a canopy bed covered with silken sheets and soft blankets. The servant Aesir bowed graciously and left her to herself. This was the first time since arriving in Asgard that she had been alone.

She felt that she could sleep, but she did not feel that she needed to, exactly. In this form she supposed that she could stay awake indefinitely, for years if needed. However, she had taken a few sips of the wine herself, and was feeling a slight bit lethargic. Sleep would help to clear her head, if nothing else.

Almost the very second that she began to think of just how she would be able to sleep in such heavy armor, her clothing changed back to it's original appearance. She still felt powerful, though. This was only an illusion, and something that she could use at will. She could be either Hrist or Leone at will, and this thought was intriguing.

She slipped into the bed and found that it was more comfortable than anything she had ever slept in. Soon enough, she was drifting off into dreams. Her last thought was a worry. She wondered if being Leone would prevent Hrist from truly awakening, or if being Hrist might be too much for Leone to handle or understand. There was something egging at the corners of her mind. Those memories were trying to surface, she could feel them slowly dissolving the barrier between what was Leone and what was Hrist. Was there some reason why she did not want to remember, something she was unaware of? She could not see how that could be. If she woke up being either one, she would not care. So why did she feel so concerned?

Despite her uneasiness, she quickly slept and had the most refreshing night's sleep in her life(slept like the dead, in fact). When she awoke, she could hardly even remember the dream that she had of that heavy warrior who had made her feel so helpless and alone in that other life.


	3. Hrist Upon Midgard

**Note: Just quickly I wanted to say thanks to all of my reviewers because a lot of you aren't signed in so I can't reply. Also I want to say BIG THANK YOU to Kait for helping me edit some of my chapters (even though I haven't had time to add them yet ;). **

**Chapter 3: Hrist Upon Midgard**

(1)

The morning following her grand reception, Leone awoke refreshed in mind and body. It came as a passing surprise to discover that she was in Valhalla when she opened her eyes and that the entire night had not been some exotic dream.

She stepped carefully out of the lavish bed provided by her hosts and began to think on the black armor she donned last night, as well as what it meant to wear it. As she did, she felt the astounding weight of it envelope her body and found that she had indirectly summoned it back into physical form. Now Hrist Valkyrie once more. She wondered if this meant she would never need to waste time dressing meticulously for battle again. That was one advantage, at least. The transformation's mental trigger was just a bit too sensitive for her tastes.

Hrist emerged from her room and was promptly greeted by a young (or at least young-looking) Aesir woman who wore her blonde hair tucked away under her brightly-colored cap. Like Freya, her attire failed to cover any part of her beautiful legs. It was a strange choice of uniform for the Aesir, but Hrist thought she may look strange to them as well.

The girl began speaking much too quickly to understand, so Hrist began to walk without asking for clarification. The low-ranking Aesir followed along like a puppy spouting such prattle as she had never heard.

"Are you hungry, Lady Hrist?" was the first intelligible thing that she caught.

"No, I am not," Hrist replied. Her boots clicked rapidly against the floors as she walked towards the throne room. She scoffed as she passed several Einherjar still dozing drunkenly on the steps along the hall.

The girl was nearly sprinting to keep up the pace. "Is there anything that I can do for you at all? I can prepare absolutely anything for you, Lady Hrist!"

"I am only interested in doing what must be done today, thank you." It was curt, but she at least tried to sound friendly. This royal treatment was annoying her. "That is all, you may take your leave."

The girl stopped abruptly and bowed, but Hrist continued to the throne room without allowing for interruption. Looking up at the enormous door, she wondered if there were any rules pertaining to entrance. She could not imagine Rufus being particular about his guests, but she felt a deep foreboding about this chamber. That was likely something etched into the past and no longer prevalent, but she could not shake it.

She pushed the door open and entered on her own. As before, the golden chamber seemed to glow with its own brilliant light. There, she found Freya lounging on the exquisite throne of the king. "Ah, Hrist," Freya addressed her warmly. "Have you come to set out on your journey so early?"

"Do the gods rise so late?" Hrist replied, noting the lack of Rufus's presence.

Freya seemed slightly annoyed at that, though not at Hrist. "They seem to," she griped. "In fact, I doubt your Lord Rufus is even out of bed."

A door somewhere hidden in the back of the grand audience chamber slammed and Rufus's voice echoed on the walls. "Oh, but I am!" he shouted, and ran into the throne room. He wore what looked like traveling attire and even though it was inappropriate for his status, it seemed to suit him much better. After the long sprint across the throne room, he stopped to catch his breath hunched over next to Hrist. "Oh man, I need some exercise," he said as he recovered. Then he looked at Hrist and smiled. "Let's get some today, how about it?"

"What in the name of the world tree are you babbling on about?" Freya sneered, without making any sign of moving from what was supposed to be his chair. "It is not as if I honestly need you to participate in such a simple task as this."

"Come on," Rufus said in a persuasive tone. "Let me take Leone to Midgard. I haven't been there in years--plus, I know you hate the place!"

Freya watched Rufus in silence for a moment, wearing an unreadable expression. Hrist observed as Rufus's grin became less and less confident until Freya finally came to a decision. "I suppose that you have adequate knowledge from traveling with Silmeria, so let it be so. Just promise me that you have not forgotten it all."

"All right!" Rufus cheered, and took a step nearer to Hrist. "I will be your escort to Midgard."

"I strongly doubt that I need such a thing," she argued.

"It would be rude to send you alone and untrained," Freya added. "Let him guide you. He may not seem it, but he is accomplished in a few areas."

Rufus shrugged. "I guess that's a compliment..."

"Very well, then," Hrist replied. "Show me the way."

(2)

Rufus led Hrist to the treasure chamber at the very end of the halls of Valhalla across the walkway that crossed the fields. Hrist felt a rushing sense of familiarity as she looked across the expanse of white meadows.

"Is something familiar?" Rufus asked, when he noticed that her pace had slowed.

Hrist wasn't sure of that herself. "Have we been here before?"

Rufus continued walking. "I should say so, this is where you first helped us."

Hrist frowned when not a single memory surfaced. "We meaning who?"

"Doesn't really matter," Rufus replied. "They're all gone away now."

Hrist let the matter be and followed him into the holding place of godly items. Though miscellaneous trinkets and relics of the gods were gathered here, the most distinguishing feature was its domed shape. The wall itself, which rivaled the size of any Colosseum that Leone had ever seen, was the treasure that Rufus was looking for.

"This is the Water Mirror," he said, extending his hand as if to offer the entire room to Hrist. "It allows the gods to watch what is happening on Midgard. Up until relatively recently, the gods could easily control the world's political climate using this contraption. Whoever they wanted to win a war would win, they could assassinate leaders... or have them publicly executed..." His attitude changed abruptly at the end of this explanation, but as soon as he faltered, he quickly held his chin up again. "That's why it's under tight security. I don't want the gods abusing it anymore."

"Are Freya and the others untrustworthy?" Hrist asked.

"I wouldn't say that," he replied. "I think that maybe they don't know what's best for Midgard."

"Leaders that exploit the weak are shameful indeed," Hrist said, "but those who are afraid to use their strength to serve their people are just as cowardly."

"I'm the one giving the lectures today, thanks," Rufus replied in good humor. Hrist had not been joking, but said nothing more. Then he held up reflective shard of glass in his hand. "You can also transport items and even people using this mirror. The shard will allow me to come back once I've gotten you set up in Midgard. From then on, you'll remain there unless there is a matter of urgency."

"This is acceptable to me," she answered. "I feel... out of my element in this place."

Rufus rubbed the back of his head. "I know what you mean," he said. "Well... let's get a move on."

(3)

Stepping through the mirror had an eerie similarity to stepping through an open door. The distance felt like nothing more than a few feet, though the scenery had changed entirely. Hrist was now in a grove of trees spotted with delicate green leaves and tall grass. The ground underneath her heavy boots sank slightly as she walked and the air smelled of fresh rain and damp earth. It was misty; perhaps it was morning here on Midgard as well, but she couldn't be sure. Rufus stood next to her, still tucking the mirror shard into his sleeve for safe keeping. As he looked up with an eager expression on his face and opened his mouth to state something that was likely obvious, she remembered that he was wearing a quiver full of arrows and a bow on his back and obviously intended to fight.

"You are an archer?" she asked, cutting his statement off preemptively.

"Well I'm part elf, as if you couldn't tell. That's kind of their thing."

Hrist had noticed the strange shape of his ears, but had not asked about it. She only cared in the slightest now that it might relate to his fighting ability somewhat. "Do you not command the power of Odin's great spear, Gungnir?"

"I do," Rufus said in a tone that revealed that he wasn't sure just how well he was able to, "but... I don't just carry it around with me, come on."

Hrist turned. "It seems to me that if you possess one of the four treasures, that you ought to learn how to wield it, that is all."

"I--" Rufus sputtered, then he smiled again and glanced up at her own enormous lance. "Would you like to teach me? You seem to wield that thing pretty well."

"The one needing instruction is supposed to be me, Lord Rufus," Hrist answered, annoyed. "Would you get on with it?"

"You're the one was is so worried about it to start with," Rufus sighed. "Don't worry about my skills. You don't need to know how to fight hand-to-hand with aim like mine."

"Every archer runs out of arrows occasionally, my lord."

Rufus laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head. "It still sounds weird..."

"What? Being questioned by your subordinate?" Hrist nodded. "I will hold my opinions if you prefer."

"No, I mean you calling me Lord like that. Anyway--your lesson starts now. First of all, let's get this photon crystal thing down pat. That's always handy."

She stopped and turned back to look at him. "Photons?"

"Crystallized light from the tree of Yggdrasil... or something like that," Rufus muttered while waving his arm lazily, obviously having a shady idea of how it worked himself. "Look, it should just come naturally."

Hrist took on a doubtful look. "Forgive my impertinence, but I must say... for being king of the highest of all worlds, you really are quite useless."

"Hey, I've seen Silmeria do this a million times! It's gotta be easy."

"Silmeria..." Hrist muttered the name. "My sister Valkyrie, supposedly? I've heard that she once rebelled against Odin... but nothing specific. Are you saying that you knew her personally? What happened to her?"

Rufus began cautiously, but the amount of effort he put toward avoiding the point of her question only made her more suspicious. "Uh, well..." he raised his hand to the back of his head once more and began fussing at the golden band that wrapped around his head as if it was uncomfortable to wear. "Basically... all four of you were reincarnated as humans. We've had a large stock of Einherjar, and there haven't been any situations where they could get themselves killed as of yet, so we didn't need to awaken a Valkyrie until recently to prepare for this Ragnarok thing."

Hrist considered pressuring him for more. Rufus had earned her trust if nothing else. It could have been the sincerity in his spirit, and it also could have been the fact that she thought him incapable of formulating a competent lie. For those reasons, she felt that if Rufus was not telling her something, then he kept to himself for good reason. "So... Lenneth is missing, and Silmeria is presumed to be out there somewhere in Midgard as a human just as I was until I so recently died," Hrist summed up.

"Right," Rufus said with a nod.

"Who is the fourth?" she asked. Rufus flinched in response. Without meaning to, she must have stumbled right into whatever about this was making him uncomfortable.

"Right, uh..." Rufus mumbled. His next reaction came as a surprise to her. Rufus sighed deeply like a weary old man who laments his lost youth and dropped his arms to his sides limply, giving up. "The fourth one isn't a Valkyrie," he explained. "Forget I said anything. Let's just get your photons working, okay?"

Hrist noted that he was forcing the cheerful tone that he normally spouted without effort. For some reason this brought him pain, and she was happy to drop the subject. "Perhaps you could start by explaining what it is I am supposed to do."

Rufus strained himself to come up with a proper lecture, continuing with elaborate hand gestures that could mean anything. "You're channeling power from Yggdrasil which takes the form of light," he explained. "You should be able to feel it flow through you. When you shoot one at your opponent, it crystallizes and traps them, giving you the upper hand in battle."

"That sounds like magic trickery," Hrist said in distaste. "Shouldn't I just worry about _killing_ them?"

"Hey, I'm not going to tell you how to do your job," he said with a laugh. "Just try it sometime. So what else is on the list? Oh yeah, your recruitment techniques..."

"For Einherjar, you mean?"

"Yes," he replied. "Each Valkyrie has slightly different methods. Lenneth is able to hear the voices of worthy souls who are close to death, and Silmeria has object reading, which lets her read the psychic energy in objects and materialize warriors from suitable physical items..."

"And what divine skill do I have, pray tell?"

"Apparently, if I got my information right," Rufus went on, and Hrist considered the possibility that that wasn't the case, but let him proceed with the explanations, "your powers are more uh... locational. In a place where someone once died, you can make contact with their spirit."

"But doesn't the spirit move on after death?" she asked. "People are either sent to Neifleheim, or reincarnated, other than the select few who are chosen as Einherjar. That is what I gathered from my own post-life journey, at least."

"Yeah," Rufus agreed. "Well--they can also become the undead, but that's beside the point. What this means is that you would be picking up the souls while they still linger on Midgard, either because they have just died, or because their souls have been otherwise unable to pass on. More than any other Valkyrie, Hrist is known as a goddess of death and the claimer of souls. Humans haven't always seen you as a positive figure, I'll just say that much."

Hrist found herself unsurprised to hear this, but uneasy with the idea. Had she been some sort of monster? Rufus grinned once more as if what he was about to say was a joke, but it failed to amuse her. "In that way, you're kind of a reaper, Hrist--I mean, Leone."

"Either name is fine with me for the time being," Hrist replied. Neither name seemed completely fitting right now. "So, to find these slain and choose them..."

Rufus rubbed his chin. "I guess you're just going to have to hang out in a place where a lot of people die," Rufus said, pointing out the obvious. "It sounds depressing, but I'll go with you for support until you collect a few."

"I will do my best," Hrist replied.

(4)

They made their way through the lightly forested area until the land dropped off into a rolling plain that stretched into the distance. The horizon was veiled by a cloud of mist on the other side, and a range of mountains rose above it. The scene was not as pristine and beautiful as it should have been. The grass had been muddied by a recent rain and flattened into a sloppy mess by droves of men in heavy armor. There had been a battle here earlier and no one remained here now except for the dead.

"Did you pick this battle-ravaged locale for my sake?" Hrist asked. After seeing her fill of the destruction, she turned to look at him instead. "Is it convenient for gods to have absolute knowledge of human activity?"

Rufus frowned in guilt. "Yes, I knew that this was happening, but... I can't allow the gods to stop wars of their choosing any more than I can let them start them," he said regretfully.

"Criticism was not the intent of my comment," she replied. "If you stopped every war, then my mercenary friends would be out of a job. On that note however, at first I thought you too optimistic, but now I see that you have calculated your position very carefully."

"Well, thanks--"

"My concern," she went on, "is that if our primary mode of transportation is on foot, this journey is going to be an incredibly long one from here. Should you not have chosen a town?"

"I'm confused," Rufus said. "The mirror trick is only for me because I wasn't born a god, and I can't teleport, let alone fly."

Hrist scowled. "You expect me to fly?"

"Uh... yeah?"

Although the utterly lost expression on Rufus's face suggested that he was not making a joke for his amusement, Hrist sneered ever slightly in disbelief. "That is ridiculous."

Rufus laughed. "Do you think that I'm trying to trick you?"

"I just don't see how, that's all."

With no response from her unlikely king, she determined that this must be discovered on her own. Hrist exhaled in puff of breath and closed her eyes to concentrate. She calmed herself to an almost meditative state, and then all at once hopped into the air. This was so abrupt that Rufus jumped a little himself in reaction, but he failed to remain mid-air. Hrist on the other hand bobbed back down for a moment and nearly touched the ground again, but maintained a float merely inches from the ground.

Rufus glanced at the now airborne Valkyrie wide-eyed, surprised himself at how easily that had worked, while Hrist looked about for a means to propel herself. She discovered that at the mere thought, she was able to control both her speed and direction. "I don't know why you made such a big deal out of this," she sighed, and began her flight across the field.

"You're the one who thought it was a big d--wait, was that supposed to be a joke?" Rufus shouted after her, and ran to keep up. He was soon very far behind her as she flew over the fallen soldiers. She did not wait for him. Though his advice was appreciated, it would be easier to choose without his prattle in her ear, she hoped.

Seemingly countless corpses littered the field below. Was there some sort of sign that she was looking for? How would she know a valiant Einherjar simply by browsing a pile of dead bodies? She had made it this far by relying on intuition, so she allowed that to take over. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that she was allowing Hrist to truly take over. She had noticed little things, like a bite in her words more-so than usual, but nothing dramatic. She didn't mind the change, but hoped that it would hurry up and happen if it was going to. This half-and-half feeling was distracting.

Something caught her attention in the same way that motion instinctively draws the eye, yet everything was still and it was not her eyes that were drawn. She set herself down amidst a group of the fallen and knelt to check the insignia of one of their uniforms. They were of Crell Monferaigne, the powerful and militaristic region known for waging holy war whenever it suited them. It looked as if they had come to this foreign nation from across the sea, and faced a stronger opposition than they had anticipated. Most of the dead from the opposition had been removed by their comrades, while Crell Monferaigne's dead had been left to rot under the sky. She wondered if she could find a suitable Einherjar among these arrogant invaders.

Rufus finally caught up, out of breath and panting. He began to look around as if he could somehow help with her selection. "Talk about some crappy luck," he said as he kneeled down beside one fallen warrior. At first it appeared to be a man of small stature, but upon closer examination, Hrist saw that he had a child's face. His blonde hair had been well-groomed up until the point that it became matted with blood and dirt. His small and calloused hand still gripped his bow in death. "This kid can't be older than fifteen," Rufus estimated.

"Crell Monferaigne enlists young men into their army quite early," she replied. "The residents of their nation look at it as an honorable practice, and it seems to be quite an effective one."

Rufus looked up. "You sound like you don't like it very much."

Hrist looked at the slain boy sympathetically. "I may be a Valkyrie, but I am still a woman. I would rather not see children slain in the name of their lords as the only way of proving themselves."

"That has nothing to do with your gender," Rufus said, standing. "I'm a man, and I agree." He glanced over the field, disappointed in humanity as a whole, no doubt. "Though Midgard's prosperity has improved greatly since the gods stopped interfering, war itself seems to be an invention of mortal man alone."

Hrist tuned Rufus's voice out, and began to hear something else speaking to her. It was not the sound of words, but a low hum. The source was not from outside, but seemed to pulse from within her. She knew without asking that Rufus was unable to hear it. This was the sound of the fallen archer's soul resonating with her own in an innate harmony. As she leaned closer to him, it became louder and warmer, like a beacon calling out and trying to find her.

Rufus turned and saw Hrist kneeling over the boy in concentration. A soft light began to glow around her. "Huh?" he muttered in surprise. "You want that one?"

As soon as Rufus turned his attention to her, a second hum interrupted the one that she was trying to find. It was sharp and buzzed with a bright warmth. This came as an annoyance because it was not in sync with her own like the first voice, yet it was persistent. It was the voice of a child who loves unconditionally and only wishes to be acknowledged. Rufus was unknowingly broadcasting his loneliness loudly to anyone with the ability to hear, but Hrist had no time for that. This harmonious voice was urgent, and its message could only be relayed to her. Rufus's was for someone else to hear. "Stand back and stay quiet!" she snapped at him and his aura, failing to consider this time that he was her lord. Rufus instantly retreated to a few meters' distance and left only the sound of this desperate deceased boy's soul.

(5)

_White birds are released from a chapel at the heart of a beautiful community filled with carved arches and cobblestone roads. Hrist does not fail to notice the enormous statue of a Valkyrie battle maiden, but she finds that it bears no resemblance to herself. She has never been to this country before in her most recent life as Leone, but he understands that it is Crell Monferaigne, the homeland of the invading force whose corpses litter this battlefield. The white birds which symbolize peace now strike her as a mark of hypocrisy. They are released in the name of the gods, but this holy war is a farce. Rufus has clearly stated that no god or goddess of any rank has made a single demand of humankind in Midgard for hundreds of years. She knows that, and yet a part of her at this moment feels pride that she is (is she?) going to fight this war._

_Then she is running into a patch of trees that leads into an even greater forest just outside of Crell Monferaigne, and her heart is filled with excitement. The branches shake in the wind and the light that filters through them dances all around her. She feels lightheaded and anxious. What should I say? How am I going to explain this? Will it hurt her feelings? She has never felt this way before in her entire life. She remembers that Leone was never in love._

_Soon she realizes that it is not Hrist or even Leone who is sprinting through the trees, and neither do these thoughts belong to her. They are from the young man who she found lying face down on the battlefield. She watches through his eyes as he slows down, hoping to catch his breath before he sees her. Hrist soon sees the "her" in question, a young girl who appears to be the same age as her current host. She is crying. Hrist/the boy are disappointed that she has already heard the news that he has brought._

_The two begin to speak to each other, but Hrist cannot hear either of them. She can see the adoring expression on the girl's face when she looks at him, and it is very obvious to her, even given her unromantic nature, that the two are very deeply in love. This is a love which is neither imagined or invented for convenience, despite (or perhaps thanks to) their youth. There are two feelings that accompany this muted conversation, neither of which Leone has ever felt before in her human life or in her new (and old) existence as Hrist. The first is an inexplicable and overwhelming warmth; the second is is unimaginable apprehension and regret._

_Soon she knows what the two are saying; she doesn't need to hear the words. I'm leaving. I'll come back (but I may not). I promise (but only the gods know if I'll be able to keep it). We'll be happy when I return (I must return, I must.) She feels a pain that comes from neither her own heart or the boy making his vows. The fallen archer is with her and looks back upon this scene in sorrow just as she does._

_Many days later, he is on a boat sailing towards the foreign land where Hrist will later find him dead. He feels sick and afraid, but will not back down. He has been told that the people he is fighting are bad, that he is good, and that sacrificing his life to this cause is the only way to prove his honor and worth to his country, his family, and himself. If he can do all of that without dying, if he returns, he can give her anything that she wants even though he does not practice a trade. Her parents will finally accept him and they can live in peace._

_The boat is a miserable place where there is never enough food or water, and everyone complains about what they are leaving behind. They like to dream about the lives they will lead when they return, but the grim reality is that even if their side wins, at least half of them are doomed to die. He is packed in with several other young men who have never fought before. They are all quite adept at hunting monsters, but humans are a completely different animal, so he thinks with a bitter laugh. Hrist sees both the humor and the sadness._

_Finally they see the shore, but they are attacked by the defending country's forces as soon as they set onto the foreign ground. Their point of entry has been leaked to the enemy, and now there is nothing left to do but fight. The battlefield is more frightening than anything he has ever dreamed of, but he does not allow himself to freeze up in fear. The others fall or run back to their ships like cowards, but he continues to fight. He hears someone shouting to retreat, but knows that he will never make it back to the boat. The meek boy, small even for his age, decides to prove to himself, even if no one else is there to witness it, exactly what he can do._

_What envelops Hrist next is something unexpected. In sympathy she feels despair and hopelessness, but the boy continues to fight with all of his strength and spirit. She understands that this feeling that overwhelms her is the mark of a true Einherjar. She feels the intense pain as he is pierced by the mortal wound, and continues to fight until his body will no longer move._

(6)

"Rise, Llewelyn," Hrist commanded, as the vague form of the young boy began to materialize. The glowing translucent figure became solid and soon he appeared to stand in front of them as any living person.

Rufus had only seen Silmeria perform spiritual materialization before; he had never been present for the actual choosing of the soul. In this case, both the body and the Einherjar were present. It was extremely odd to see both the dead boy and his materialized form. He thought the boy must be unsettled far more. Rufus could only imagine seeing yourself dead at your feet.

The boy turned his head in all directions before realizing where he was. "Are you," he said in awe, "Lady Valkyrie?"

"Yes, I am the chooser of the slain," Hrist explained. "Come with me, and fight for the gods."

Llewelyn looked down at his feet with a grim smile. "I don't suppose I have a choice..."

"You always have a choice," Rufus interjected. "If you refuse, your spirit will dissipate and you will truly die, but it is your choice."

"I see," the young man said, trying to grasp these grand mechanics. "All I wanted was to go home to Millia a hero, if I can't do that either way... then I may as well serve you, Valkyrie."

Rufus looked at Llewelyn and then to Hrist. "Who is Millia?"

"The boy's young love," Hrist explained, with little interest. The empathetic feelings from her connection to Llewelyn's spirit had worn off, and she was once again frigidly cold regarding the subject. She had trouble remembering if she had been so cold towards lovers' tragedy as Leone.

Rufus crossed his arms and frowned. "It's like that, then... I get it. You know, if you die, at least you can be reincarnated. Wouldn't you rather do that?"

"Why are you trying to change his mind?" Hrist spat. "He's an Einherjar, I want him to come with me!"

"But he has someone waiting for him!" Rufus retorted, surprising Hrist as well as himself with how his temper flared. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

"It's fine, really," Llewelyn said, and glanced at Rufus. "I think I would rather live on for a while and be able to at least remember her."

"Is that so?" Rufus replied. After a moment's hesitation, he clapped his hands together and smiled. "Well, we can at least do something for you. Would you like to see her again?"

"What nonsense is this?" Hrist asked, obviously annoyed. "Our time is short."

"Let's take him back to Crell Monferaigne, and give him a moment to say goodbye. We owe our Einherjar that much, at least. Only a truly free soul can fight efficiently, right?"

Hrist sighed. "Very well. I suppose I should not argue with the lord of Asgard."

Llewelyn gaped at Rufus and sputtered, "D-do you mean that this is Odin?"

Rufus sighed. "No, no! You've got the wrong guy!"

"I should hope not," Hrist said. "I would hope that Odin was the 'wrong guy.'"

(7)

Llewelyn's spirit was still fresh and fragile. It was necessary for him to remain in an incorporeal form during Hrist and Rufus's second teleportation through the Water Mirror. He was somehow inside of Hrist, using her own godly spirit as a host. It was a strange feeling for the new Valkyrie to grow accustomed to. She had always been a private person who refused to rely on anyone, and it was uncomfortable to have another consciousness so deeply entwined with her own. At the same time, she felt less of the usual emptiness that had never been satisfied in her life which was devoid of families, friendships, and romances.

When they arrived in Crell Monferaigne, Hrist took her human form once again to avoid drawing attention. She noticed Rufus nervously tuck his ears underneath his hair and wondered how he could have been so excited that he forgot to bring any means of concealing his identity with him.

"You point the way, Lady Valkyrie," he said.

Hrist was already trying to find the right spot. As they walked down a street on the outskirts of the large town, she could feel Llewelyn's heart tugging her along. This place was very well known to him. She decided to engage Rufus in conversation to keep her mind off of the strange feeling. "Why is this boy's final message so important to you?" she asked him.

"Maybe I'm just soft in my old age," Rufus replied with a shrug. "The whole tragic romance thing gets me every time."

"I never would have guessed that you would develop such a weak spot."

"Frankly, I wouldn't have either."

Hrist gave up on this line of questioning as they reached the end of the stone road and the beginning of a path through the woods surrounding the town. "The place should be ahead," she said.

Rufus looked around to make sure that this was a secluded location, and then sat down upon a log. "You know what, I'll just wait back here."

"Very well," she agreed.

Without Rufus, she pressed on along the forest path. She walked quickly, but did not pass up on the opportunity to take in the sights that Llewelyn found so familiar. The canopy was thick with lush leaves. The path was shady and sparkled with dancing freckles of light that managed to find their way through the greenery. When the wind blew, the entire forest rustled with life and energy. It sounded like the soft roar of waves lapping against an unseen shore.

This soothing sound for some reason made Llewelyn unsettled, and Hrist felt it as surely as if it were her own emotion. A shrill cry rose above the sound of the ocean of leaves. It was the scream of a young woman. Llewelyn's heart jumped at the sound and took Hrist with it. She darted into a run and bolted for the source of the noise as fast as she could.

She found the girl whom she had seen in her vision of Llewelyn earlier. She was crouched on the ground in distress, but appeared to be unharmed.

The girl did not look up. She answered, but it was as if she was speaking to herself and not to the stranger who had appeared behind her. She spoke through tears. "The coffin was empty" she whimpered. "I-it isn't supposed to sound this way..."

_What can I do?_ Llewelyn asked, though only Hrist could hear him. _What can I say?_

"You'd best say _something_ ," Hrist answered. "Otherwise, you might as well kill her and put the poor girl out of her misery. Although, I doubt I can make an Einherjar of _her_."

She could feel Llewelyn shudder at that, and then she felt his willingness to materialize and comply. He appeared, but was too weak still to fully realize his physical form as before. This was for the better, Hrist decided. If she mistook him for a ghost, then it would be much easier.

She stepped away, and allowed the two their privacy. What Llewelyn said she could only guess, but she had faith that it brought the girl closure and helped her to continue living her life. When Llewelyn returned and joined her spirit once again, she knew that he was satisfied and truly dedicated to serving her as an Einherjar now that the loose ends of his mortal existence had been tied. Rufus had been right about that, and was smiling as if he knew it already when she found him again.


	4. The Fires of Gerabellum

**Chapter 4: The Fires of Gerabellum**

(1)

Nothing could ever be as quiet as an empty house that was once full. Belenus returned home after a day at the capitol of Lassen and went straight to his room. There was nothing else to see here.

The neighbors had worried ever since this emptiness had overcome the dwelling; Belenus was well-loved by the people he served. The elderly woman in the estate nearest by had suggested that he hire a servant to keep the house, but the idea seemed oddly inappropriate for some reason that he could not put into words. In the absence of his wife and family, there was no one to keep the mansion at all, but he hardly cared. No one was living in it except for him. He only came to his own home to sleep. Everything else that mattered was at work.

Lying in bed long after dark, he found it hard to sleep. Tomorrow he would travel to Garebellum's capital city in order to meet an official like himself from Villnore. There, an alliance between Garebellum and Villnore would be formed, which would ensure the safety of Villnore's subjects against invasion. Garebellum was peaceful and had no enemies nor ambitions of conquest. Its own internal problems were enough to deal with. Yet the world was being torn by the two great powers of Villnore and Crell Monferaigne and every state would be pulled into their struggle.

The kingdom of Artolia had been put in a perilous situation. It was seated directly between the two powers, and had shaky relationships with both. Though Villnore had been outwardly aggressive, Crell Monferaigne was sure to absorb the small kingdom if Villnore did not. Garebellum must side with one or the other, or face a similar fate. Doing this would mean the near instant and utter destruction of Artolia.

The next morning, when the sun rose, he set out for the capitol again. From there he would journey to Gerabellum and meet with dignitaries of Villnore. The road was full of people who greeted him warmly and with the upmost admiration. These people were no different from those who lived in Artolia, except for the unfortunate place of their birth. He wondered if their country would even be permitted to take in refugees after the country was burnt to the ground. Certainly not. They already treated the poor like an infection of pests in the capital city.

A young girl of common class with brown pigtails grinned excitedly at him while her mother pulled at her arm in frustration. "Don't bother such important people!" she scolded the girl. The child ignored her, and held up a handful of flowers. There was still a bit of dirt clinging to the stem where it had been uprooted. The mother raised her hand back to strike the child. "Stop that!"

Belenus raised his hand, silencing the woman immediately. "It's no trouble," he said, and pat the girl on her head to hopefully save her from her mother's retribution later on. The small child giggled and insisted that he take the flowers. "It is well enough to pick a flower," he said to himself, and took them. The mother watched him strangely as he said this, but was glad to have avoided the anger of a noble and said nothing.

As he continued on, he wondered if it would not have been better to allow the girl to receive her punishment. Other nobles were not so lenient. She would avoid her fate today, but eventually the result would be the same. If Villnore did not crush Artolia, then it would be crushed by Crell Monferaigne. It was the same as picking a flower.

Destiny was a path carved out for man by the gods. It was unchangeable. All he could do was make the most of the fate that he was dealt--this terribly lonely fate.

_Destiny? Was it destiny that killed my wife and Maria? Was it destiny that send my friends and my father to die in a distant war? Is it the reason that I am here now? _

In that moment he felt the presence of someone at his side--neither his father, his wife, or the kind servant who had been a mother to him for all of his life, but someone who still cared for him very deeply. Someone whom he had never met in this life, but loved more deeply than the woman in the marriage arranged for him by his father. As soon as it came to him it was gone, and he felt more alone than ever before.

(2)

Two female mercenaries had successfully completed their most recent mission and were now returning home. The weather had been cooling off in the region of Artolia for some time, and Lemia was glad for it. She was in her element very literally when it began to get colder, as her specialty was ice magic. The frigid damsel was her friend, and she enjoyed snow and ice.

The only thing she disliked about the cold was her friend Aeila's constant complaints. They often joked that Aeila was cold-blooded like a reptile. She was a descendant of a dragon tribe, though she knew very little about her ancient heritage herself.

"I wish I could hibernate like a dragon," Aeila groaned atop her horse which rode alongside Lemia's. "Just go to sleep for a few months, that sounds great."

"You would miss a great portion of your life that way," Lemia pointed out.

Aeila yawned, stretching her arms over her head and scratching her bright red hair. "I don't care too much," she said.

"That's a shame," Lemia laughed softly.

(3)

The two arrived in Artolia later that day. There they found their group's headquarters empty.

"Where the Hel is everyone?" Aeila grunted as she entered, leaving the door open. "We brought back some money, so where's the parade?"

"They've gone," came a deep, raspy voice from outside. Aelia frowned at the sound, but Lemia smiled warmly.

"Grey," Lemia greeted the man who entered. He was a large man completely coated in silver armor that had dulled so much that no one was sure if Grey was his real name or if it had been given to it for that reason. The helmet he wore covered his face and had a beastly appearance.

Grey nodded as if his identity needed to be confirmed. "They have gone to a funeral," he said. "An ally has passed on."

"What?" Aeila spat. "Who?"

"A woman named Leone," Grey responded. "I did not know her."

Lemia looked down at the floor sadly. "I know that she was in the employ of the king himself," she said. "But... as I visit the castle little myself, I had never spoken to her. I believe that Celia knew her fairly well."

"Celia, Lawfer, and Kashell have gone," Grey explained. "I am glad that you have arrived. There is a job to discuss."

"Are you that cold?" Aeila snapped. "One of our own has died, don't you feel anything at all?"

"I did not know her," Grey replied, his tone changing none in the least.

"Did you know her very well?" Lemia asked sympathetically.

"Yeah, I've worked with her before," Aeila said. "Stay here if you want, but I'm going to join the others."

Lemia had no time to reply before Aeila rushed out of the small residence and down the street. She sighed, watching her brash friend go. "I'm surprised that death would move her so," she said to Grey. "Her entire family must have died..."

Grey's face was impossible to see, but his posture shifted slightly in what might have been remorse. Lemia was surprised to see the stoic man express such sympathy even in small amounts. "I am glad it still moves her," he said. "Once you grow accustomed to death, life has very little meaning."

"Would you know that from your experiences, Grey?" Lemia replied.

He did not answer.

(4)

The others returned from the ceremony later, after night had fallen. They sat around a table in their headquarters, all together for the first time in a long while. The house they rented was really too small for all of them, but Celia at least found it warmer with everyone around. She prepared a meal and everyone sat in any spot available.

It was strangely quiet. It was not unusual for one of their colleagues to fall in the heat of battle, and none of them had been close personal friends with Leone. Lawfer, who served most often at the castle, knew her best. The two of them felt distinctly different because of the nature of her death, which they had been present to witness. Leone had assumed the role of a leader and laid down her life in a show of heroism and self-sacrifice that mercenaries rarely exhibited. She thought of Princess Jelanda, who had afforded them a glance at the ceremony. She was not so cold as not to mourn, but strong enough to hold back and avoid giving them all away. It was their heads on the line much more so that hers, so Celia was both thankful and impressed.

The house's odd silence may have also had to do with the presence of Grey. He had been a member of their group for about a year now, and still no one had seen his face. Celia knew better than to judge others, and cared little if he was a wanted man or anything like that so long as it brought them no trouble and he did his job, but even she was wary of him. Once given the opportunity to speak with him, she found that he was surprisingly polite and gentle, but cold as ice. Nothing phased him and he never laughed. If he smiled or not was anyone's guess, and she guessed that he did not. The others had not even made it that far, Aeila and Kashell particularly lacked trust.

"I would propose our next assignment," Grey said.

Kashell didn't turn away from his meal, but shrugged. "Sure, go ahead."

"The offer is from a group based in Garebellum," he explained. "It's a manhunt."

"A criminal?" Lawfer asked.

"Yes," he replied. "I was shown the official documents of his criminal record. He is wanted dead, and not dead or alive."

"Why hasn't it been pinned up as a bounty?" was his next question. "Why would they hire us directly instead of hiring out of Gerabellum?"

Grey nodded at the merit of the question. "They want to avoid attention and publicity," he replied. "I know not why, as they agreed to give further information only if we accepted the job."

Celia was uneasy at the sound of this. "Gerabellum is a long way to travel for a shady job," she said.

"On the other hand," Kashell added, "We may all be headed there soon. Artolia is on the brink of war, and it's going to be on the losing side. I say we ship out of here before that happens."

"Abandon Artolia?" Lawfer replied in shock. "Kashell, I wouldn't expect that from you."

"It isn't the money that I'm worried about," he replied in his defense. "I'd gladly fight for a fair and good king, but I'm not losing my life over some skirt-chasing git who can't even raise an army properly."

"Me either," Aeila agreed. "No way!"

"I say we send three," Grey suggested, getting back to the subject at hand. "The rest of you can stay here and assess the situation with Artolia."

"And I suppose you'll want to go," Kashell answered.

Grey nodded. "Yes, and I'd like to request Lemia come with me."

Lemia had been listening quietly as usual up until this point. "Me?" she replied. "I am not very strong."

"You possess a skill that is unique among us," he answered. "Though I would request another, to ensure your safety."

Celia had never heard Grey speak this much in all the time he had been with them. "I'll go," she said. She didn't trust Kashell or Aeila to work well with Grey. Lemia needed someone with a cool head that she could rely on. Celia couldn't rely on Lawfer either, because he was--for some reason she could not understand--dedicated to Artolia, and would not leave in these dire times.

"If you want to," Kashell agreed. "Shame that I didn't get to see you longer, though. Who knows how long any of us will be alive?"

"Don't say things like that in jest," Celia scolded. "You'll curse us all."

(5)

The road to Gerabellum was a travel of many days, even after they managed to hitch a ride on a wagon passing that way for a good portion of the journey. Most of these were spent quietly, simply watching the landscape as it passed by. The land was littered with small, ill-constructed houses and towns too small to name. They paid taxes to Garbellum, but had no particular allegiance. These were the people whose homes would be burned regardless of which side won, whenever war broke out.

Lemia and Celia sat side-by-side and hung their legs off of the back of the wagon. Lemia lowered her eyes as they passed another farm. "We're so concerned about losing Artolia if we go to war," she said, and then looked up at an elderly man who had three of his sons working under him in a field. "They'll lose their homes and livelihood either way, and have nowhere to go."

"It is true," Grey said from his seat towards the front of the wagon. "Gerabellum pushes its rich higher and its poor lower every day. If you ever felt that Artolia's monarchy were unfair... be prepared to see worse."

"Do you know Garebellum well?" Lemia asked him. Celia recognized this as an attempt to pull more information out of their mysterious colleague. She had no interest in Grey's past one way or the other, but found it amusing that Lemia tried so hard.

"I've passed through several times," he replied. Lemia sank back to her seat, disappointed. "It is important that you do not present yourself as poor and homeless. Should anyone ask, we are soldiers in the direct employ of nobility."

"That sounds more appealing than saying we're a group of ragged mercenaries," Celia agreed.

Lemia turned to look at Grey again. She was the only one who did that. None of the others bothered, because they never saw his face anyway. In fact, Celia had been amazed that they managed to find anyone willing to pull them along with a man wearing menacing beat-armor in their party. Perhaps the two young ladies made up for it.

"If they receive the impression that we are poor," he explained to Lemia, "they will throw us into the slums."

"Oh," Lemia replied. "Those poor people..."

(6)

Belenus arrived in Gerabellum by way of a carriage provided by his home town of Lassen. Though considered an exquisite luxury in his city, it paled in comparison to the ones he saw here. The clothes people wore and the homes that they passed were extraordinary, as if no common people lived here at all. It also very was unsettling. There were few commoners, and though none were visible, he knew that the poor were abundant. They were kept elsewhere.

As scheduled, they stopped at a government establishment just inside of town before pressing through the city. Here, a servant to Gerabellum's diplomats joined him. "Pleasant day today, isn't it?" he asked.

"If by that you mean that the sun does shine," Belenus replied. He looked through the window of the coach as they passed over a bridge. At the high point of it, he could see several miles in the distance. There was a thin trail of smoke rising into the sky. "What burns?" he asked. "On such a dry day, I fear it would spread."

"Pay no mind to that," the man laughed. "In that direction lie the filth of our city. I would guess that in their arguments they've set one of their own aflame."

Belanus doubted that. It was an action of his own kind--the so-called gentle people. They wanted the poor kept in their place. Was this fate as well? Could he not change a thing?

(7)

Night fell as they arrived in the city of Gerabellum. They went to meet their clients at a tavern in a small corner of the two known as the soldier's sector. Because Gerabellum's higher class stifled the growth of the common people, there were few establishments such as this. However, any nation needed soldiers, and those soldiers needed a place to go. The few travelers and mercenaries stopped there as well. Thus, there was a small place not too far from the castle where one might go without being locked into the ghetto with the poor.

Their clients were a group of four. One woman among them hid her face with a shawl, and two of the men wore cloaks. The fourth was dressed like any foot soldier might be, in light leathered armors.

"You're late," the woman said. "Our target moves, and we must strike tonight while the opportunity is available."

Celia sat at the table before them and folded her arms. "First we want to know more about this target," she said. "The papers on his crimes are official, I know... but why are the Gerabellum peace-officers not involved? Why would you go all the way to Artolia for help?"

"The man was involved in a scandal with one of our high-class families," the woman replied patiently. "We don't want him associated with us at all."

"You must understand that it sounds dangerous from our end," Grey said, backing Celia's words. "We don't want to be privy to information that may make us enemies of powerful people."

"Of course," one of the men in cloaks agreed. "This is why we went to Artolia. Why would you people have any care about the political scandals of a foreign nation? We'll pay you enough to trust that you'll keep your mouthes shut."

"In that case," Celia agreed, "we won't ask who he was involved with. We will leave that up to local investigators. Carrying out the law is what we do, but only as far as we are paid." As she said that, she wondered in Lawfer back in Artolia felt an itch or a sneeze.

"That is best for both of us," the third man replied. The fourth, who wore nothing over his face, remained silent. He avoided looking at any of them.

"Is he a mercenary too?" Grey asked. The man looked up at him.

"You might say that," the woman replied. "But he will not be working with you."

"My name is Janus," the man said firmly. "I am not a mercenary."

Celia's eyes narrowed at the hint of disdain she detected in his voice. "Then we will prepare ourselves for the mission." She turned to Grey and Lemia. "The two of you go outside and prep our weapons, I'll finish up the arrangements here."

(8)

Grey and Lemia exited the stablishment and waited outside. The delicate girl sat down on the gutter that ran along the edge of the street and held her knees together. She was only one year younger than Celia, but felt much less experienced. She had participated in jobs before, and in those jobs, people had died. Still, her own method seemed like a detached way of killing. She couldn't imagine actually taking a weapon to someone and striking them down. Magic was much easier, and she wondered if that made her a horrible person.

"Grey," she asked. "This is a manhunt, right?"

"Yes," he replied.

She looked up. Grey's helmet was even more sinister in the dark, but she found herself used to seeing it. "What were the mans crimes?"

"Rape, murder, arson, theft..." he stopped. "It is a long list."

"I see," she said. "Then... he deserved to die even more than most of the people I've helped kill before."

"Does it seem wrong?" he asked. "When we are hunting rather than defending ourselves, does it seem cowardly?"

"Maybe that's it," she answered. "It's just so easy to judge people... I'd rather leave it up to the gods."

"The gods seem absent in our world," Grey replied. "For good or naught... I cannot say."

Lemia raised her chin and smiled at her companion in grey armor. "People judge... is that why you wear a mask?"

"That is one reason," he replied. "Do you not fear or doubt me like your friends?"

"You haven't given me reason to," she answered. "And maybe..." she laughed. "Maybe it's because the face on your helmet reminds me of a dog I used to have. He was so obedient and protected me from all sorts of things when I was small."

"I am not really a dog under this armor," Grey said, "but I will protect you."

Lemia stood and her smile broadened, but before she was able to give a response to this, Celia and their hosts emerged from the tavern. The woman with the shawl spoke first. "We have a tip on his location right now. You must head to the low town."

"The slums," Grey said. "I suppose you are not going."

"It is your job," she replied. "We hired you so as not to dirty our own hands with that filth."

(10)

Belenus spent a few hours reintroducing himself to the much of the nobility at the palace who he had not seen in years. He was greeted briefly by the king himself, who noted how promising he was to the nation, and how so many opportunities were available to him. Why, he could be appointed a commander and never have to see the battlefield--just send soldiers to die upon it in his stead. How very lucky he was.

Tired of all of this long before being excused, he relished the dismissal of the court when it finally came. The living quarters given to him at the castle were exquisite, decked with silk and velvet. The landscape visible through the room's silver and glass windows was less comfortable, however. It provided a clear view of that spot of the city that was still burning, and now even more of it was aflame.

"Would you like a room facing west instead?" the young servant asked. "I'll have to scold the room keeper for putting you in a quarter facing that awful part of town!"

"Do you have no concern for those that are burning?" he asked the young man. The servant only stared back at him with wide, innocent, fawn-like eyes. "Never mind," he said, shaking his head tiredly. "Leave it as it is."

"Are you sure, my lord?" the young man asked, alarmed. "At least allow me to close the drapes."

Belenus glared. "Leave it."

"Y-yes, my lord!" With that, he fled from the room, finally leaving Belenus in peace.

Belenus went to the window. Indeed, the entire sector where the poor were kept was burning. Refugees from other nations and those who were underprivileged--all would burn alive, or be struck down if they survived. Gerabellum's economy was plummeting, and Belenus could clearly see why. It was not the fault of the poor or the refugees; it was because the nobles stifled the expansion of the middle class which drove their civilization. They burned the poor to get rid of them instead. All that this would bring about was the creation of a new class of the poor. Suffering was rising up the class ranks, rather than wealth finding its way down. Why? What for? Destiny? Was this the will of the gods?

If the gods willed everyone he loved to die, and for innocent people to burn alive, both here today and later in Artolia, what was the point of it? Anyone in his position could form an alliance with Villnore. He had no purpose here, no destiny.

If he went to that place now, could he do anything? Could he change anything? Even if one life was spared as a result of his actions, would that not be a shift in fate?

It wasn't that he was convinced. Fate may well be unalterable, he thought. However, he would never know until he made an attempt. If he lost his life, so be it. The idea of living to see a war between Villnore and Artolia, of being a general sending young men to die each day, was not something that made him want to live.

He took his sword and left the castle.

(11)

The woman in the shawl sneered as she received a report. "I have no idea why Lord Belenus wishes to leave the castle at this late an hour," she laughed. "And for the slums? Does he not know that whores abound in safer places? Nevertheless, it is to our great advantage."

The man who may have been a soldier, Janus, spoke up. "Perhaps he could not stand idly by," he said. "He is known as an honorable man."

"He is an enemy of Crell Monferaigne," the man to his left snapped in return. "Or do you wish to back out of our most honorable duty and return to Crell Monferaigne a traitor?"

"I will serve the king," Janus replied. "I will not back away from my duty. Never."

"Then follow those dim-witted mercenaries and be sure that the job is done."

"Yes," he replied. "And if there is a problem?"

She snorted a puff of air through her nose, annoyed to no end by his stupidity. "Kill them all."

Janus nodded and then departed. Once he was gone, she raised her hand to her cohorts. "And the two of you make sure that _he_ does _his_ job."

(12)

Belenus had little trouble making his way through the ghetto walls. They were designed to keep people in and not out, after all. The heat of the flames all around was immense. He could hear the screaming of people dying not only in the fires that consumed their homes, but as they were stuck down by soldiers while attempting to escape--by keepers of the _law_. He saw this and had trouble composing a suitable reaction. Sadness, anger, hopelessness, none of them could encompass what he felt.

He walked in a daze through the carnage until he saw something that drove him to rage. There was a young red-haired woman in common clothes crouching on the ground amongst five children who were not hers, but whom she protected and cared for all the same. This young woman held up a knife in her defense with one hand, and the body of a dying child with the other. All around her were soldiers of Gerebellum--wearing the same uniform as those that he lived among in Lassen--taunting her with jeers. _Taunting_ her as she protected the lives of innocent children.

"You've all gone mad!" he shouted, and caught the attention of each of them. He held his sword firmly and ready. "If this is the will of the gods, then allow me to unite you with them!"

(13)

"Hey, there's a few of them running away!" they heard a soldier yell, as Grey, Lemia, and Ceilia pressed into the slums.

"This is insane!" Celia shouted over the roaring flames. "We're going to get caught in the middle of this!"

"It may have been their intention all along," Grey responded as they ran from their pursuit.

"Take Lemia ahead," she called. "Protect her with your life!"

"Of course," Grey answered. "Come, Lemia!"

Celia stopped and drew her sword as the other two ran ahead. Three of Gerabellum's soldiers scared her not a bit, and she felt no remorse over killing any of them. "Cowards all!" she shouted. As she lamented that doing something heroic was not going to increase her payment, she thought that maybe Lawfer and Kashell would have enjoyed this after all.

(14)

Grey and Lemia ran, avoiding the sight of guards and soldiers. Grey pulled Lemia by the hand, afraid that she might stop and try to save one of the hopeless victims here. He did not blame her for that, but it was his duty to ensure her safety. He had insisted she come with him on this mission.

"Grey!" she shouted, and pulled him to a stop. He turned and saw that her eyes were filled up with tears. "I have to do something, I--"

"Getting close will only endanger yourself," he said calmly.

"But my magic, I could put out the fire!"

"You know that these fires are well beyond your capabilities," he said. "You would collapse from exhaustion before saving anyone."

"But Grey! I--"

Grey's shoulders slacked. This too, was beyond him. "You must try. Yes, I know. Go on, then."

Lemia turned to a burning home from which the cries of the inhabitants could be heard. She raised her wand to it. "Frigid Damsel!" she commanded. Light emitted from the tip of it and from the icy blue light formed the bodies of fairies that froze everything within the reach of their touch. They flew through the house and were quickly gone, defeated by the intense flame. The cries had stopped by the time Lemia was ready to try again. Whoever had been inside was now dead.

"Grey," she whimpered. "You were right. I can't do anything..."

"Come, Lemia," he said again, softly this time, and took her hand. There was nothing he could say, and nothing that he could do, except for complete the task assigned to him and claim his reward. "This is the life of a mercenary."

Lemia nodded and regained the strength to move on.

(15)

Grey continued to lead her by the hand. It felt unnatural, and certainly gave them no advantage in battle, but he dared not let her go.

They reached a circle of houses that had been lit aflame, leaving just a small space at the center that was safe from the fire. Here, many children had assembled with a long young woman who was striving to defend them. A man of middle age was here as well. He fought the soldiers that threatened him. They came in just as the last one fell to his blade. He turned to the girl.

"Go, escape the city," he said. "Run as far as you can, run to Lassen if you must."

"Y-yes, yes, I will!" she replied. "But... aren't you a noble?"

"My role in the gods' drama is no longer important, just escape this place alive, and you'll owe no debt to me."

"I will!" she called back. She scooped the injured child in her arm and bid the others to run.

Lemia watched this, and it nearly brought her to tears. "Is that man... is he...?"

"The one we have been hired to kill, yes," Grey replied.

Lemia raised her hands and placed them at either side of her head, shaking. "I can't," she said. "I can't do it! I can't believe that this man is truly evil, that he deserves to be struck down in such a cowardly manner! Those papers must have been forged, they must have been!"

"Calm yourself," Grey answered, and steadied her with his hands on her shoulders. "Let's find Celia and head home. This job isn't worth any payment no matter how many times they multiply the amount."

"Okay," Lemia nodded.

(16)

"Damned fools," Janus cursed from his position. It was not the masked mercenary and his girl magician that he wished to damn, but his own fate. Soiling his hands with the blood of a young woman was still in the bounds of his honorable duty, so said the king, but he wished not to. "Kill the man and save your own lives, lest you all die..." But they would not.

He decided to take his target first. Perhaps the others would get away with their lives if they saw this and ran. He could explain this as an accident, at the very least. "Run, run you fools..." He strung his bow and let a single bolt fly.

(17)

Belenus marveled at what had transpired. He had changed fate. He had saved those lives, the innocent children and a young woman. This was the single most exalting feeling he had known since he was young. "You can change fate," he said aloud. "Fate is alterable!"

The arrow struck him in the chest, piercing him straight through the heart.

(18)

"No!" Lemia gasped, as the man's body fell lifelessly to the group. She started to run towards him, but Grey grabbed her wrist and held it firmly.

"He's dead," he said. "There is nothing you can do. The sniper will kill you where you stand!"

For a few seconds, Lemia's body shook. Then she collapsed to the ground and began to cry. "Oh ye gods, why?"

She sobbed on her knees for a moment, until a sound from Grey snapped her back to attention. It was a deep, guttural noise--and wet. In the same second, she felt herself being propelled forward by his strong arms. Her legs scraped against the ground and a bit of flame took to the end of her cape, but she paid no attention. She turned and her eyes widened in disbelief. Grey laid with his chest against the ground, a handle protruding from his back--a handle that belonged to a knife, one made in a shape designed to peirce through armor. Where he had been standing now loomed one of the cloaked men who had hired them.

"I was going to let this fool live," he laughed. "He makes such a great villain with that mask. You're not nearly as easy to use, so I was going to put this blade into your pretty back... but he went and jumped right in front of my knife! You can hardly call that murder!"

"_Grey!_" Lemia screamed and threw herself upon her friend. "Grey! _Grey_!"

Grey gurgled one word as his helmet rolled from his shoulders. "Run..." Somehow he looked exactly as Lemia had always imagined him. He had a gentle face with scars running all over it. He was older than her friends, but not an old man. He had blue eyes that closed for good just as soon as she was able to see them.

"Try and get out of here alive," the conspirator laughed. "You'd be the only one."

Lemia paid no attention as Grey's murderer left the scene. She cradled his body. The immense weight of his armor made this nearly impossible. She knew that she could do nothing. Nothing, nothing. She was useless. She didn't possess the strength to save anyone. If Celia was dead too, then she wished she had died as well. Grey should have lived. He had to live, to make up for whatever it was that he had done in his past to wear this mask. She herself was filled of this life.

_Soul Transfer._

There was one ritual that she knew of that could save the dead. "Oh gods, take my spirit," she sobbed. "Let this poor man live..."

(19)

Janus watched as one of his associates stepped in to do his dirty work. He killed the man and allowed the girl to live. Though he doubted very seriously that this was an act of compassion, he was glad. This meant that his own work was done. Finally he would be commended by the king and praised by his father. His ancestors who were now Einherjar (for certainly they were worthy warriors) would all be proud.

He watched the girl as she cradled the dead, and then something strange happened. There was a flash of brilliant light. Janus shielded his eyes from the radiance of it. When it faded away, he looked to see what had happened. Was it a powerful healing spell cast in vain? No... he watched in utter speechlessness as the man in armor stood, unharmed. The knife was no longer in his back. The girl laid dead at his feet instead, the same knife buried in her. They had switched places.

The man stood there motionless for what seemed like an eternity. Janus understood. He felt the same way. Finally he watched him kneel and pick up his helmet, then place it back over his face.

"Come, Janus," he heard, and turned to meet the other of his two dark-clad compatriots. It shamed him to call them such, but this was all for the king.

(20)

As far as Celia knew, everything was going well. She lured the soldiers of Garabellum away from her friends and the fleeing people of the slums. It was easy enough with her speed and agility to lose them in the flames as well. She decided to find Grey and Lemia again, to make sure that they were not having problems.

When she ran into the circle, she saw Lemia dead and lying on the ground, knife in her back. Grey stood over her, just standing there.

"Grey!" she screamed, as she reached Lemia's body. "What happened? What are you doing?"

He did not answer.

"_Grey!_"

Grey turned slowly, his back turned to her. He began to walk away, into the flames that raged on through the night.

"Did you do this, Grey?" Celia heard herself ask, and could not believe what she was saying. How could Grey have killed Lemia? He was the one who suggested the mission, who insisted that Lemia come along, but why? Why would he do this?

"You couldn't have," she sobbed, and held Lemia to her chest. "Tell me it's not true! You couldn't have!"

The fires raged on, and even those who escaped with their lives lived on borrowed time. They would be killed if seen around the city, and he countryside was too poor to take them in. There was Lassen nearby, but with their beloved Belenus dead, it would be a miracle if their people would take pity on the homeless.

Celia wrapped Lemia's body in her cloak and took her to the forest, where she buried her alone. She saw nothing more of Grey. The journey home alone was more painful than anything else endured in her life.

(21)

Kashell opened the door to the home that the small band of mercenaries shared, unaware that it would never be overcrowded again. "Hey, Celia!" he greeted her with a big smile. "I didn't expect you guys to be back so--" He stopped as Celia pushed herself into his arms and held him so tightly that he could hardly breath. She was shaking.

"What happened?" he asked, and held her head to his shoulder. "Where is Lemia?"

The story seemed much longer than it was as Celia explained how she came upon their friend dead, suspiciously near Grey, who neither said anything in his defense or seemed to be concerned with finding her killers. Aeila and Lawfer came in half way through it, and it had to be retold. That was for the better, as hard as it was to believe.

Celia was shaken, but she would not cry again. She had done enough of that. She sat with her friends--what remained of them--and thought, as she forced herself to eat a bowl of hot soup, of what to do. They must find Grey. They had to know what had happened and why.

As evening fell, there was a knock at the door. Lawfer opened it this time, and was shocked out of his grief in an instant by the identity of their visitor. It was Princess Jelanda, dressed in cognito yet again. The same displeased expression weighted her youthful and delicate face just as much as the first time he had seen her.

"Your highness," he greeted her with reservation. "I thought you had learned the danger of sneaking out of the castle this way."

"This is important," Jelanda answered. "Is Celia here?"

"Yes, she's just come back from Gerabellum," he explained.

Jelanda looked down and cursed under her breath. "So she was in Gerabellum," she hissed. "What in Neifleheim was your team doing there?"

Lawfer was unsettled by her reaction. "How did you know that?"

Jelanda invited herself inside and stepped into the room where all of them sat. Whether she recognized the tension there or just didn't care was anyone's guess. "A person of high rank in Garebellum's nobility was assassinated during the widespread fire that broke out there recently," she said. Celia looked up, as did the others. "They say that mercenaries from Artolia working under Artolian orders are responsible. The man was dealing with Villnore, so of course it makes us look responsible."

Celia stood. "They believe that we did it?" she said. "Damn them..."

"Yes," Jelanda answered. "You were named specifically."

"Grey must have been in on it all along!" Kashell shouted.

Jelanda placed her hands on her hips. "Whatever actually happened, it doesn't matter to me. I just came to warn you that by tomorrow morning they will be starting an investigation. People will be coming to arrest the lot of you."

"Why?" Aeila yelled, smashing her fist against the table in front of her. "So Artolia can stage some public execution to make up for this and avoid an inevitable war yet again?"

"That's enough, both of you," Lawfer commanded. "Look... we were thinking about leaving Artolia anyway," he sighed. "As much as I hate it... it appears that now we have to."

"We'll search for Grey," Celia said. "Let's go."

"Lawfer," Jelanda addressed him naggingly. "As princess of Artolia, I order you to stay."

"Uh, your highness," Lawfer mumbled. It was strange calling her that. "I appreciate that you came to warn us... surprised actually, that you care so much... but... why should I stay, may I ask?"

"Because I trust you," she explained, huffing and crossing her arms impatiently. "I am appointing you my personal guard. You'll be exempt from this investigation."

"That's a generous offer," he answered. "But... Celia..."

"Stay," Celia answered. "I know that you love Artolia. We will contact you when we find and deal with Grey. You can stay here and watch after Artolia." She forced a smile. "Don't worry. I'll watch after these two."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Kashell said.

Aeila growled. "As long as we find that Grey and beat his face in, it doesn't matter to me!"

"Than it is settled," Lawfer said. "Our team is hereby disbanded."

"It's depressing," Celia said sadly, "to say it that way."

"Don't worry," Lawfer answered. "Our pact as comrades still holds, even in death."

(22)

Janus and his three conspirators returned to the contact point in a town between Gerabellum and Artolia. They welcomed him into an inn there and made him comfortable.

"You've done well, Janus," said an older man, the one who was in charge of the operation. He had not participated in it first hand. "Keep this up, and you'll be promoted to the rank of general, I'm sure."

"I am honored," he replied, "if it is in the best interests of the king, and the kingdom of Crell Monferaigne."

"You have but one mission," he went on. "You must dispose of the weak king of Artolia. They will believe that it is retaliation for the assassination of Belenus. This will pit Villnore and Artolia against each other. With a nothing but a small girl on the Artolian throne, it will fall easily to Villnore... but Villnore will be weakened as well. That is when Crell Monferaigne will overtake both nations."

"This seems like an underhanded approach," Janus said.

"Villnore and Artolia already hate each other," he replied. "We hardly need encourage them. All we are doing is speeding up the process to save our own resources and lives. Our people are chosen by the gods--the method we choose to eliminate other nations is none of our concern. Only one of the king's inner circle could be trusted with such a delicate mission."

"Yes sir."

(23)

This was the second time, Janus thought, as he held the crossbow ready and took careful aim. This time, he felt nothing. None of the regret or the shame that he felt when he killed Belenus. It was natural now, like it was on the battlefield. Just taking a life that wasn't of Crell Monferaigne. Everyone did it in war. It wasn't shameful or cowardly.

Was it?

The arrow flew. The king fell. The princess screamed. Artolia was doomed.

Janus returned to the contact point, only to find no one there. A set-up. He had been shut out--made a sacrifice of, just like the two lives that he had taken while breaking the rules of war. As if such a ridiculous thing could have rules, he thought. He was unsurprised, and in a way, he still felt that he was following his duty. This was just him taking the blame and becoming the scapegoat for the king. He was a good soldier.

In the best interest of the king and Crell Monferaigne, he accepted this. He was exiled, left in Garebellum. His father would never know what he had done for his country.

There was nothing left that could be done. If nothing else, at least he could die in a foreign land like a hero of war.

(24)

The remains of the slums in Gerabellum were nothing but smoldering ash. It was still hot even now that so much time had passed. The fire had burned for days, and no one cared to clean up. the dead still laid scattered, and embers burned beneath the rubble.

He returned to that place where it started--where he killed Belenus. That man's body had been found and removed, of course. The one belonging to the girl who had laid down her life for her comrade was also gone. Nothing was left except his shame.

He had the sensitive ears and lightning fast reflexes that snipers possessed. He knew that the arrow was coming, but he cared not to stop it. He fell in the same place as those others, exactly where he belonged.

(25)

_It's somehow so warm where he is. It reminds him of his mothers arms, or the gentle kiss of a lover, or a ray of the sun on a cold day. At the same time it is so dark, the color black. But it is not empty. There are others here. _

Such faith and duty as I have never seen_, he hears a woman say. Her voice is smooth like glass and water._

You're impressed? _A man's voice. He sounds louder--noisier--like he doesn't belong in this place--wherever this is._ Does duty excuse you to do anything, even if you know it's wrong?

What is right and wrong is to be judged by those who still live, _the female voice replies_. My domain is to judge the fallen.

_He sees a beautiful woman with raven black hair approach him. She wears heavy armor. Her helmet is adorned with pure black raven's feathers. She is the messenger of death, Valkyrie. _

Will you take me to be your Einherjar, Valkyrie?_" he asks her._

_"_Yes,_" she replies. "_Serve me with the same tenacity as your king.

It was my father who I served all along,_" he answers. "_I just wanted to make my father proud. For him, I'd follow any of the King's orders.

_Janus feels her acceptance, he understands how she is so much like him, and he knows that he is now where he is meant to be, one with the Valkyrie and her fallen warriors' souls._

(26)

"Come, Lemia!" Hrist shouted. The spirit of the girl rose from the spot where she transferred her soul to Grey and died in his place.

"Well now, this one looks useful," Rufus said, nodding in approval. "So, she laid down her life for a friend? Now this is my kind of Einherjar."

Hrist glared at him in distaste. "I would have much rather taken the warrior, and I do not understand for the life of my why this girl sacrificed her life for him. Obviously, he had less to live for."

Rufus shrugged. "Maybe she loved him."

This earned a snort of disapproval from the Valkyrie. Hrist turned to her Einherjar. "Will you fight for the gods, Lemia?"

The young woman was completely unsurprised with the situation. She had given her soul to the gods, after all. "I don't know if I can be of any help," she replied. "The only thing I could do in the end was die."

"Then I shall train you to be a mighty warrior, fear not."

"Valkyrie," Lemia sighed, "if you can make me strong enough to protect the people I care about, then I will follow you to the end of Ragnorok."

"Then that is how it shall be."

(27)

"Going for three, are we?" Rufus asked her as she prepared herself to call again. "Very nice work, Hrist Valkyrie."

"I beg you for silence, my lord," she grumbled back. Rufus obliged. She raised her hand and closed her eyes. "To my side, Belenus!"

Belanus materialized and looked about himself in confusion before meeting eyes with the Valkyrie that stood before him. "What manner of being are you?" he asked.

"Valkyrie," Hrist replied with a smirk. "And you yourself shall be an Einherjar."

"Was it you who shot me down for defying the gods?" he laughed bitterly. "I should have known better to think that I could defy my fate."

"The gods no longer meddle in Midgard's affairs," Rufus told him sternly. "But you humans make yourselves slave to the gods yourselves by justifying all of the evil that you do with words like Destiny and Fate."

"So I was not wrong," Belenus sighs. "I am relieved. I ask nothing of you Valkyrie, and I will serve you... if that is what you have come for."

"It is," Hrist replied. "Come with me and serve the gods--not as a slave, but to change the fate of the world and save it from Ragnorok."

With that, she absorbed Belanus. She now had four spirits within her. It felt better. She felt more... whole. "This work is not so bad," she said.

"I don't know," Rufus replied in a distant tone. Hrist turned and found him looking over the ruins of the poor part of town. Birds were pecking at the meager remains. "How many people died here? For what reason? I always thought that if Midgard were free to make its own fate, that they would struggled for a better future... but this still happens."

"War is ever present," Hrist answered. "Though the weapons may grow more advanced and cultures may change over time, war will always be horrible and ever-present."

"But this isn't even _war_," Rufus argued. "This is just plain cruelty with no justification."

"Do you believe that you were wrong to loosen the yoke of the gods?" Hrist replied.

"No," Rufus replied, and forced himself to smile. "I mean, maybe if the gods were still in control, it wold be even worse, right? I mean... it isn't as if we can ask that other Lenneth how things were going. Ragnorok apparently wiped out the human race, so... I guess anything is better than that."

"Now I've no idea what you are going on about," Hrist groaned. "Let us move on, Lord Rufus."

Rufus followed Hrist as she began to walk. "_Please_ stop calling me that." As he passed by the place where Belenus fell, he could see the mark of spilled blood where his body must have been. But--there was something else. A few blades of grass grew there, along with a single flower. "How was a flower seed carried all the way in here?" he asked himself aloud. "Must have been since the fire... The birds bring them, you think? Or did someone drop it?"

"Who cares about such trivial things?" Hrist replied in her agitation. "Come, I grow tired of waiting."


	5. Weeping Lily Meadow

**Chapter 5: Weeping Lily Meadow**

(Note: This chapter is much shorter, but I thought it should end there.)

(1)

The sun set on the ruins of what was one a part of Garebellum's less privileged side of town. Hrist still ached with the vicarious pain of the three souls that had join her here, in this place. Each of them also brimmed with hope that they could grow stronger, and that the future could be changed.

"Are you feeling okay?" Rufus asked her in concern. "Maybe you shouldn't gather so many at once. It could damage your uh..."

"My what?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Your psyche? Your soul?"

"Nonsense." Hrist turned about face on her heels and faced Rufus directly. "Shall we go?"

The expedition with Rufus was going well so far. She had gained four Einherjar, and that seemed a good place to start. She was eager to begin training them, to watch their spirits strengthen through the tests of battle. It was odd, but she wondered if this was at all like having children. Suddenly she cared for these souls whom she had never known before more than anything else in the many worlds.

Rufus seemed to be enjoying himself as well. Hrist suspected that he enjoyed being away from court, and was lengthening his stay in Midgard as long as he possibly could. It wasn't that she minded his presence. Even if he was annoying at times, he was an effective guide at the least. However, she wanted to stand on her own feet and be free to feel out her own direction. It would be easier to move in accordance to her own whims and intuitions. Rufus had to understand that. He had encouraged all of humanity to do the same thing.

"I'll show you one more thing," he said as they exited Gerabellum. "Sometimes, you will be able to sense the presence of demons, or the undead." He stopped and looked into the air as if he'd caught a foul smell.

"Do you sense such a thing now?" she asked him.

"Yes, I _think_ I do," he replied, sounding none too sure. "To tell you the truth, it's a new one on me, as well."

"Where?" Hrist asked bluntly. "We reached Gerabellum by means of the mirror, we may go to this place as well. Show me how to locate this impurity in Midgard."

Rufus scratched the back of his head. "North, I think..."

"All you can say is 'north'?" Hrist complained. "Shouldn't the god of gods have keener senses?"

"Sorry," he answered with an apologetic shrug. "But hey, if you feel anything, be my guest."

Hrist considered that he was right, she felt nothing out of the ordinary. If it were suddenly up to her at this moment, she would have no idea where to go next. She may as well acknowledge his skill. "Let's travel to a northern town then, and begin there." Rufus nodded in agreement and prepared to use the water mirror shard. "What does it feel like?" she asked, as he raised it into the air.

"Like a pulling... tearing... kind of thing," Rufus replied, then shook his head, realizing that he was making no sense at all. "You'll know it if you feel it."

She trusted that this was true, and followed him as he used the magic mirror to take them to the north.

(2)

They followed Rufus's senses to a town that laid to the north. They arrived outside so as not to be seen magically falling out of the sky. The town laid on the horizon, secluded in a thick forest. Hrist adorned her old looks, the shorter hair and the mercenary's clothes. To be in them again was jarring. The "Hrist" attire felt less like a costume. Now it was this form that did not seem to fit. Was she losing herself that quickly? More importantly, she wondered why that thought did not alarm her in the least.

"Ah, so you do still look like Leone sometimes," Rufus stated the obvious. He sounded relieved.

"I told you, call me Leone or Hrist," she replied, "it makes no difference to me."

"Thanks," Rufus answered. He turned towards the town and took a deep breath of the pine-scented air. "I can feel it nearby," he said, and turned back to her. "How about you?"

"I feel something, that is for certain." Her heart was heavy, as if something tugged at it. She had thought Rufus's description of it silly, but it really was like something tearing and pulling. Somehow the presence of the undead should be more dank and terrible, she thought. "Is this really what we are looking for?" she asked him. "It seems that certainly something is here, but whether it is the undead or not..."

"There are good and evil souls in humans and gods, and the undead are no different," Rufus explained. "There may be more to do here than simply smiting a bunch of soul-eating demons. I suggest we go down to the town and ask around."

"Do you even know the name of this town?" Hrist asked him.

He looked up at the town on the horizon. It was somewhat similar to the old town of Coriander, but this was not it. "No, I don't think I've ever been here. It's pretty out of the way."

(3)

The village was dotted with little houses that, though small, were all extremely well cared for and beautiful. Their windows were lined with flower boxes and there were vegetable gardens in their yards, all popping with plump tomatoes and heads of lettuce. Children wearing simple but brightly-colored garments ran through the streets with their balls and bats. A chubby pup bumbled by Leone as they passed her on the street, yapping as it ran after the children. Rufus and Leone stepped into the town and followed its central path without raising any alarm or suspicion.

"Somehow, this feels... unreal," Leone said. As she looked, it seemed almost as if she were seeing two images as once. However, when trying to make out the second image, she couldn't focus on it enough.

Rufus turned his head around slowly, surveying all that he could see. He appeared to be just as unsettled. "You're right," he said. "Though everything looks okay, this doesn't seem right somehow. It's just _off_."

"I can almost remember something," Leone said, reaching out with her mind for whatever was trying to grab it. "Except I don't believe it's something that happened from before, from that time when we were enemies."

"What could it be?" he asked, with sudden deep interest. "Did you live here before in another life or something?"

She concentrated and tried to remember, if memory was the correct way to describe this feeling. "Flowers," she said. "Flowers like the ones in Asgard, ones that float up into the sky."

"Huh?" Rufus muttered and tried his best to put his finger on the feeling as well. "I'm not getting anything about flowers, sorry."

They continued walking through the town until they came to an abandoned and dilapidated house. It looked strange here among the others, like a skeleton of something that should have been. As soon as Leone approached it, she felt an overwhelming sensation, like a lingering scent. "Lenneth," she said, without being fully aware of it. "I feel as if Lenneth is nearby..."

"Lenneth?" Rufus asked. "Seriously?"

Much to Rufus's shock, Leone abruptly reached a hand out and grabbed the first person passing on the street. "Pardon me, could you tell me about this residence?" she asked firmly

The black-haired girl chosen at random was stunned. She was only a teen, just old enough to run errands for her parents. "Oh, that place?" she said, collecting her wits, then she smiled warmly. "Are you two looking for a place to settle down?"

Leone grimaced at the thought that she and Rufus might look like some kind of newlywed couple, but let it slide. It was a good cover story. "Yes, we'd like to know its history." She could hear Rufus restraining himself from laughing, and had to restrain her own urge to keep from spinning around and slapping him.

"A friend of mine used to live there," she said sadly. "She and her parents lived in this house, but one day about... I guess it was five years ago, she was kidnapped. Oh, it was awful! We never have had a crime such as that in this town before or since."

"Why was the girl kidnapped?" Leone asked her. "Slavery?"

"Oh, I pray that is not the case!" she replied. "It was during a raid by some strange troll-like creatures. Poor girl... my brother went searching for her, but he hasn't found her yet. Everyone thinks he's a fool. I wish that he would find _something_. Even if he were to find her dead, at least it would bring us all some peace..." the girl then snapped her chin up and smiled. "I'm sorry, I'm probably giving you a bad impression of our town!"

"No, please go on," Leone said. "I am interested to hear what happened to this girl."

"Well, that's all we know," she answered. "Her parents were so heartbroken that they decided to leave the house and travel to a new place. I'm not sure where they went, just somewhere to forget, I suppose... just forget it all."

"Forget it all," Leone repeated slowly, as if she was tasting the words in her mouth.

"Anyway, the house is empty if you'd like to fix it up," the girl laughed awkwardly, trying to change the mood. "A little elbow grease and that place would be as good as new. I'd certainly like to have neighbors again!"

"Is there anything else strange about this town?" Leone asked. She dared sound a bit odd at this point. They were not going to be around much longer in any case. Let the girl gossip about her oddities as much as she liked. She was already assuming that Rufus was her fiance, how much worse could it get?

"Strange?" the girl asked, and blinked. "No, not at all. The only hazard is the winds in May that bring a few whiffs of the weeping lilies down here. Just a little pollen isn't enough to affect anyone for long, but a few people do get allergic."

"Weeping lilies?"

"Oh yes," the girl replied. "There's a meadow outside of the town where the flowers grow. Inhaling their pollen in large amounts can be deadly. The place is rightly beautiful, though."

"I should like to see this place," Leone answered. "Thank you for the information."

"Be careful if you go there," she warned. "And I do hope you consider moving in! Have a nice day!"

"And you as well," Leone bid her. After the girl had gone on her way, she turned to Rufus. "Do you think that perhaps the girl who was stolen may have been the human host of Lenneth?"

"You're asking me?" Rufus replied, dumbfounded by the entire conversation. "Who besides one of the gods would know who she was?"

Leone was only half-listening. She placed her fingers to her lips in thought and suddenly a part of that double-image became clear. "They traded slaves in this town," she said abruptly. "Traded their daughters because they couldn't afford food."

Rufus blinked at her sudden change of subject. Leone looked at him and explained herself. "Perhaps Lenneth's feelings are being transmitted to me somehow, I am not sure. But, I somehow remember this town though I have never been here, and I remember it being vastly different from the way that it appears to us now. They traded slaves here--in fact, that girl we just spoke to is not supposed to be here at all. She was sold and taken away from her brother long before Lenneth was supposed to die."

"Let's head to that meadow," Rufus suggested. "It seems like the source of that weird feeling is there."

"I agree."

(4)

They left the town as the sun began setting in the sky. The meadow spoken of by the girl in the village was painted bronze when they approached. The mountains which rose beyond the field were breathtaking in the golden light. This place rivaled the beauty of Asgard at its best.

But, something sinister was here. The closer they grew, the more the pulling and tearing sensation was superceded by a malevolent hatred--a horrible sinking fear. "_This_ is the feeling of an evil presence," Leone said. "It was merely hidden before by whatever else is happening here."

"Still, it would be dumb to assume that one is not connected to the other," Rufus pointed out. Then a sparkle of something among the flowers caught his eye. He pointed wildly. "Look, there!"

As Hrist looked, she heard a tortured wail of a creature whose very soul must be in agony. Quickly she donned her Valkyrie armor and summoned her lance to her hands. "Evil spirits," she announced, as more cries of the dead drowned out their voices. There were many of them beginning to take shape--wispy silver things with faces that had once been human, but hardly resembled them any longer.

Rufus drew his own weapon and began to take aim. Hrist raised her blade into the air. "Come, my noble Einherjar!"

(5)

Llewelyn appeared with his bow and began the process of stringing an arrow, a motion so drilled into him that his hands were able to perform the task alone. It had been calm and safe inside of Hrist. He had only felt the vague sensations that she had felt on the outside, and had no idea where they were or why they were fighting.

When he saw their enemy, he froze still in fear. "What are those?" he asked meekly, frightened by the spectral figures. He had never fought anything dead or undead or otherwise not of the living. "Can I really harm them with just my bow?"

"They are evil spirits," a calm voice replied. Llewelyn looked up at the tall man who materialized beside him. He recognized the voice; it had been one of those others within Hrist's soul. He had seen a fragment of the man's life as it passed before his eyes. He had sympathized with how his only wish had been to suit his father and his king. It was no surprise that he was also from Crell Monterfrienge.

"There is only one way to learn what will harm them," Janus said as he shot a bolt from his crossbow through the corporeal body of one of the specters. It slowed it, but did not halt its advance. Rufus did, however, with a bolt that seemed wrought of pure light. The ghoul evaporated with a final shriek and was gone.

"He really is a god or something," Llewelyn said in awe, turning his head to the archer from Asgard who accompanied them.

"Nothing to it," Rufus reassured him. "Just let your spirit get stronger, and concentrate when you shoot."

"Pay attention!" Hrist scolded loudly, as she swung the end of her pole arm through one of the apparitions just as it was about to claim Llewelyn's chosen soul for its own. He heard Rufus chuckling as if this was funny, but he was shaking and fearing for his life. Afterlife. Whatever you called it.

"Yes, Valkyrie!" he responded shakily, and began to shoot for all that he was worth. His aim was fair and he was swift with both his hands and feet. All that he lacked was the courage and the power.

"We are from the same country and practice the same art," Janus told the young man. His voice was calm and clear. "Let's show this god our skills, shall we? For the pride of our fathers."

Llewelyn was thrilled to be in the presence of a comrade again. Even though they were one army now, it was good to know that someone else was from the same home. Llewelyn swallowed his fear, determined not to let his new allies down. "I'll give it my best," he said. It was a promise to himself as well as to everyone else.

(6)

Lemia found herself at the back of the conflict, protected by the swarm of angry spirits by her newfound friends and allies. She felt weak to be placed so, especially with a young boy who was obviously scared doing his best to protect her. She examined the situation calmly and resolved to do her best.

"Do not fear," said an older man. She was delighted to find the man from Gerabellum standing beside her, though she supposed she shouldn't be. It meant that he was dead, after all. In retrospect, being dead wasn't such a horrible prospect. Still, she was glad that he wasn't alone, and neither was she. "Your place is at the back of the line," he told her. She wondered if he could somehow sense her thoughts, or if he was that observant. "From there, you must learn to view the battlefield objectively and protect us fighters from harm with your magic."

"I understand," she agreed. "I'll protect you, if you watch over me."

"I'll protect you as well," Hrist told her, and raised her voice. "Come, Einherjar, would you have your king fight your battles for you?"

To this, Rufus laughed, and continued to dispose of more of the shrieking ghosts each moment. "I could hold off if you guys need the practice," he said cockily. "But hey, I'm having some fun for once."

"Is_ that_ who he is?" Janus said, amused.

Lemia raised her wand and began to cast her magic. "This will be for Grey and the others!" she called out. "I'll show them that my death wasn't in vain!"

(7)

Though Rufus was having a round of good old fun, and her Einherjar were confident, Hrist realized the danger that they were in when one of the apparitions blocked her attack and repelled her lance. "Be careful," she commanded. "Though weak they may be, do not let them overwhelm us in great numbers!"

"Yeah, and why don't you try making with the photons there, Hrist?" Rufus prodded. "It would make our jobs a heck of a lot easier. Even gods get tired and sore after a while, you know."

"Oh, very well!" Hrist answered, frustrated with her king's less than serious attitude, and began to shoot the golden light from her fingertips. They struck the spirits, encapsulating them in crystals.

Llewelyn finished these, allowing the more talented archers to focus on the quicker-moving targets. Lemia's spell, once she completed it, froze a good portion of their numbers and gave them the upper hand. Belenus tore his blade through the ones who managed to make it through the barrage.

"Each of you grows stronger with every blow!" Hrist encouraged them. "Fight on, and feel the strength of your spirit grow!"

"I do feel stronger," Lemia said. "I feel that I'm much more powerful than before."

"Me too," Llewelyn replied.

After a frenzy of excitement and exhilaration, the last of the spirits was banished from their realm. It was now dark and the sky was dark violet, the same hue as her armor. She now saw that the flowers were pure white and seemed to glow with a light of their own in the moonlight.

"That looks like all of them," Rufus replied, catching his breath. "Let's wrap this up before more come."

"You have done well, my Einherjar," Hrist commended her flock. The bodies of the four souls began to fade away, until they evaporated into sparkling light and returned to Hrist's own body. "Now rest. Let your spirits regain their power."

_Thank you, lady Valkyrie._

After watching each of the Einherjar dissolve and rejoin their Valkyrie, Rufus looked about and seemed uneasy about something. "The purification should be complete," he said. "Why do I still feel as if this area is... thin, somehow?"

Hrist felt it too, and had no answer. "What more is there to do than cleanse the area of the stagnant dead?"

"Usually, not much," Rufus explained. "But here, it seems like there's something that must be attracting them. Why else would they gather in a field where not even villagers dare to go? What could be here?"

Hrist scanned the area with her golden eyes. They caught a vague shape in the distance, something small but obviously man-made. She began to step towards it, trampling flowers with every step. "Do you see that?" she asked.

"What?" Rufus replied, and followed her. He stepped more gingerly, but nearly fell over as a result.

Hrist reached a stone marker, one that signified that someone had been buried beneath it. There was no name written upon it that she could make out. She knelt and touched the stone. It sent a chill feeling through her. "Could this be it?" she asked him. "This grave?"

"What grave?" Rufus asked her, confused. "What the Hel is so interesting down there?"

Hrist turned her head and scowled at him. The wind was blowing his long hair all around, and countless petals up into the sky. "This _marker_," she said. "Could it be the source of the trouble or not?"

"_What_ marker?" Rufus responded in frustration. He crouched beside her and waved his hand through the object that Hrist was examining. Much to her surprise, his fingers slipped right through the solid stone. This startled her to say the least. "There's nothing there!" he exclaimed. "You're looking at thin air!"

Hrist backed away from the marker that may not actually have been there. She felt words leap into her mouth without understanding why or how. "I can't return him," she began to mumble, "back to the living, I can't..."

"Whoa, snap out of it!" Rufus said. He rose to his feet and took her by the shoulders. He shook her gently out of concern. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," she responded sharply, and wrenched herself away from him in disdain. "I'm simply trying to get to the bottom of this."

"Maybe we should go back to Valhalla," he suggested. "Maybe you aren't ready."

"Don't even suggest such a ridiculous thing," she snapped. "It's Lenneth." After this, she realized that she must sound insane. He was right to feel concern. "Do not fear, I am perfectly all right."

"If you say so," he replied warily, obviously unconvinced. "Lenneth, huh...?" He watched as Hrist lowered to her knees again. She took the sword from her side, shoved the tip of it into the soil, and began to dig. Rufus watched this in utter confusion. "What are you doing now?"

"Something is here," she said, pushing up chunks of dirt. "You may not be able to see it, but it is here."

"You aren't really winning any points for your 'I'm totally okay' defense here," he grumbled. "So you're seeing a dead grave that I can't, and you're just going to dig up whatever... whoever it was?"

"Just be silent, I pray thee," she replied. Rufus said nothing more.

He stood by her side as she dug into the earth. The wind rose and fell, and the flowers in the meadow seemed endless. How beautiful it was, and how much effort it took to remind himself that they were full of deadly poison. Kind of like Hrist, he thought. Maybe that was an unfair analogy.

At last she stood again, with something in her hand. This was something that he could see. It was a ring of dull metal with a common stone wrought into it. It would have been nothing special normally, just a poor person's treasure, but this one emanated the very sense of longing, tearing, and ripping away that brought them here.

"A ring?" he asked. "Where did it come from?"

"It is an earring," Hrist explained. "A pair, and only one is here. The other belongs to a young man."

Rufus stretched his arms over his head, trying to unwind. "Okay," he answered. "So what does all of this mean?"

"Wait..."

(5)

_Hrist is so familiar with this sensation now that she realizes right away that these are not her own memories. Now, however, the story is complicated further by the fact that these memories are coming not from her Einherjar. They belong to a woman who she wants to call sister, though she has never known such a thing in all of her life(lives)._

_She finds this presence incredibly familiar, and when she imagines Lenneth, the face that enters her mind is more detailed than any that she might have imagined on her own. Yes, this is a real memory, and not purely of Leone's mind. _

_A boy grabs her hand and pulls her gently but frantically through the forest--the same one that Hrist and Rufus have just traveled through. They are dressed in rags, running for their lives. They do not know where they are running to, just that they have nowhere else to go, and that they could never stand to lose each other._

_But no--they were dressed well in bright colors, and he grabbed her hand and pulled her through the orchard because they only had until sunset to find enough apples to make a pie. Being apart from each other never crosses their minds. Everything is blissful. _

_The boy... his name is Lucian... _

Couldn't I just forget?

_He holds her body as the last breath of life escapes it, then he cries her name into the sky with anguish. The name is not Lenneth, and Hrist cannot hear it. Who is she? Is this innocent girl really Lenneth Valkyrie, a proud warrior and the most powerful of the trinity? Would Leone have been so innocent and kind if born under the same conditions?_

_Now in the brighter world, Lucian is running in anguish. They took her away, he has to go and find her. He swears it on his life. She is so afraid. She cries out to him, and knows that he is coming, but... it is too late. _

I will never forget.

"Lenneth!" _Hrist calls to the void of memory. _ "Answer me, sister!"

"Fate is strange," _a soft but powerful voice replies._ "You must change it. Hrist, do not give up. I believe in you. Leone, do no lose yourself."

_Before Hrist is able to answer, she is thrust into another scene. What is this... Sudden pain...?_

_In the same place, the Weeping Lily Meadow, but in another time, Lenneth herself cries out in alarm,_ "It's... It's you! Help me! Mystina, Arngrim, help me!" _What strikes such fear into the heart of the most powerful of Valkyries?_

_What Hrist sees next shocks her and sends chills to her very core. It is the raven-haired Valkyrie, the black-armored warrior, the chooser of the slain. The person who she sees Lenneth so desperately face is Hrist Valkyrie, her own self. It makes her want to crawl back into her human skin and be no one but Leone ever again._

_Hrist (the one that Hrist is looking at, and not the Hrist that is currently viewing through the eyes of Lenneth--of this, she must remind herself) laughs wickedly with such disdain for the mortals before her. _"Arngrim," _she says in a smooth and awful tone,_ "How could you have forgotten me so easily?" _But it is Hrist who cannot remember. Who is Arngrim? The Dragon of Artolia? Hasn't she seen him before... in a dream? Are they the same man? Are they merely reflections of the same man? _

_Is what she is seeing the past, or is it the future? _

(6)

Hrist closed her fist around the dull gem tightly, then all at once, she threw it across the field.

"Whoa!" Rufus exclaimed. "What did you throw it for?"

"I felt as if I should," Hrist said flatly. She then went to retrieve the piece. She plucked it from a bed of the deadly flowers and raised it to her eyes again. "This is the only thing that connected her to him," she said in a low and distant voice. "I threw it away... because I hated her humanity. It was something that Hrist--that _I_ was not allowed to possess." Then she turned to her very confused companion. "Tell me, Rufus, do you believe in such a thing as a soul mate?"

"What?" Rufus balked. "Why this all of the sudden?" Then he laughed and rolled his shoulders. "Sorry, I don't think you're my type."

"This is no time to fool around!" Hrist responded in a great booming voice which erased the thought of carrying the joke further from Rufus's mind. She went on, regardless of his unwilling attitude. "Do you believe that two souls can be bound together, and that when reincarnated, those souls would naturally be drawn to each other, with all the memories of their past lives lying asleep within them?"

"My personal experiences would have proven otherwise," Rufus said in a bitter laugh. "But then, I've never been reincarnated, so I don't suppose that it completely disproves your theory. But Leone, what is going on?"

He called her Leone. She was thankful for that. "I believe that Lenneth is calling me, perhaps from another realm. Though she died in that world, she lived in this one. That is why you cannot see her grave. Yet from that world, I pulled this earring. It is a gift, a beacon. She wants me to find her. This young man whom she is so fond of seems to be a key. The girl's brother, I believe his name is Lucian. Yes, she cried his name in agony right in this very place. The two are bound by the mechanisms of fate."

Rufus threw his arms up in the air in defeat. "Sure! Suddenly you know all of this!" Then he sighed in frustration. He smiled apologetically. "Well, I suppose it's a better lead than nothing..."

"Perhaps you should return to Asgard," Hrist said. "You should speak to Freya while I continue on. I have enough Einherjar to keep me safe from harm now, I will be fine."

"How much can you remember?" Rufus asked her. "Do you think you can remember me? Or maybe Arngrim?"

"Arngrim?" she asked. The man in her vision had been called Arngrim, but she could not say that she truly remembered him. She had merely seen a glimpse of a future that may never be, one which involved some incarnation of him. "I only know that name from the legend of the dragon that was told in Artolia."

"I see," he said. She heard the disappointment in his voice. "Just know that whatever happened between us in the past, it doesn't matter anymore."

"I will bear that in mind," she replied. "Please, return to Asgard. This is something that I must find myself."

"I don't like the idea of leaving you," he replied, shaking his head as if he was disagreeing with himself. "Please, let me stay a just a little while longer."

"Now _you_ sound like someone who is about to confess their love," Hrist laughed in a gruff tone. Jokes seemed to be the best way of dealing with Rufus, though she had a certain distaste for them. "Valhalla needs you to prepare for Ragnorok. It's obvious that you cannot follow the trail of Lenneth any further. I will continue my work."

"Uh... am I a hindrance to you?" he asked. "Please, I just want to know."

"I wish not to offend you my lord, but..." Here she was considering Rufus's feelings. Though it seemed ridiculous, she was glad that she still had some sympathy left in her. She did not want to become that pitiless thing that would strike her own sister down at the slightest command of her lord.

"Never mind," he sighed. "I already know."

"Your spirit," she explained. "It does not sing in the same tune as mine. It is harder for me to sense the Einherjar in your presence, and... harder for me to find Lenneth."

"I understand," he replied. "I'm not one of you."

Hrist was moved by the tone that his voice took on. He suddenly sounded lonely and afraid, not like himself at all. "I will find Lenneth for Valhalla," she promised. "I believe that when I find her... maybe I will be complete. Then I will remember you, and this Arngrim that you speak of... as well as Silmeria and the others who fill your story." She thought that this would lighten his spirits, but they seemed to sink even further.

"Just promise me that you won't let it change who you are now," Rufus answered, and he smiled warmly. "I like this person who you are."

"I shall try."

He took a long look around the area as if saying goodbye to Midgard, then placed his hands on his hips, getting back to business. "Well, you're right... this point is indeed the center of the disturbance. Maybe, if Lenneth really was here in that other time, it's formed a weak spot of some kind. You know, like something is destabilized here because she is supposed to be here--but isn't. That's why you were able to pull through that object. Trouble is, other things might come through, too. Like those spirits."

"That may be," Hrist agreed.

Rufus spun around to face her on his heels and clapped his hands together. "In that case, I'll just patch it up!"

"Patch it up?" she repeated in disbelief. Rufus said nothing, and opted to show her first hand.

Hrist watched skeptically as he raised his arms and attempted to use his powers. Though he seemed confident as he closed his eyes to concentrate, she severely doubted that he was well-practiced with his world-shaping strength. It was a borrowed power, and something that he obviously did not care to bear for thousands of years to come. Still, she watched and stood by, hoping that this would work.

A crest formed on the ground and runes swept through the flower-coated valley. The tearing and pulling in Hrist's heart stopped, as if Rufus had somehow mended it. The double-image which was produced from the branching of time was likewise fixed, and the grave marker disappeared from her sight. All that was left was the earring in her hand.

When Rufus was done, he was exhausted and looked as if he might collapse. "My lord," Hrist addressed him. "Are you all right?"

"My spirit isn't really a god's per say," he explained, breathing hard. Hrist prepared herself to catch him should he fall, but he remained standing. "Even though I did climb Yggdrassil with Gungnir and take that power, I still have my limitations. If I practiced it more, maybe it wouldn't be so bad, but I..."

"You needn't explain," Hrist replied. "Please, return to Valhalla and rest. All is well here. I will continue to look for Einherjar, and more sources of disturbance in Midgard--and the owner of this earring, if he might lead me to Lenneth."

Rufus reached into his cloak and held forward the shard of the water mirror. "If you're sure," he said. "In that case... don't be afraid to call me. I may be king due to unlikely circumstances, but I'm at your service as much as you are at mine."

"As you wish," she replied.

Rufus grinned once more, threw the shard into the air, and was gone in a flicker of light. "See you soon," was the last thing she heard him say.

For the first time, she was truly alone as Hrist Valkyrie. She thought for a fleeting moment that she may regret Rufus's departure, that she may grow to miss his presence. In life, loneliness had never affected her so much.

Had she bid farewell to Rufus in another life? It would be too ironic if she was able to remember just as soon as he was out of her sight. This feeling was even more detached and vague than Lenneth's memory, but it was there.

She raised her left hand and looked at it. Was something supposed to be there? Something for good luck? Or had that been someone else's feelings entirely?

This was all too frustrating. She decided to hold fast to what was left of Leone and keep it close. That was enough of channeling others for one evening.

_Is it all right for us to be here?_ Llewelyn asked from within.

Lemia joined him. _Are we imposing on your own personality?_

"No," Hrist answered them, and placed her hand against her chest. It felt warm inside with their presence within her. "I am a Valkyrie. If nothing else, your presence puts me at ease."

_We are still here, _said Belenus. _You are not alone, and neither are we_.

"I know," she replied. "Thank you, all."

She turned in a direction that was chosen unconsciously, yet must be led by fate. As she walked, the blossoms of the Weeping Lily Meadow blew into the sky. It was just like on that night in her vision, when a boy named Lucian cried into the sky. Later, Lenneth would cry into that same sky. Or would she? If things played out differently... perhaps not.

"Fate _is_ strange," she pondered.

There was nothing else here to learn. She had to find another piece of this puzzle. For now though, she was grateful to have her memories and her mind under her own control, and her Einherjar close at heart.


	6. Sisters of Kallstad

**note: **I discovered one reason why chapter 4 was so messed up. See, when I write, I often write scenes ahead of myself and then fill in scenes that need to be there when I'm done. There was some stuff at the end that I meant to delete because it turned out I didn't use those lines after all. Whoops! Should be fixed now, but I think I'll wait until I'm completely finished to do grammar/spelling edits. Bear with me until then, I beg of you! XD

Oh yeah, also, Alicia fans can rejoice this chapter. Yay.

**Chapter 6: The Sisters of Kallstad**

(1)

Once again on her own, Hrist took to the sky. That was the Valkyrie's primary method of travel, and she found it much more natural than warping around with Rufus's mirror, as strange as that sounded. She had no idea why one would be stranger than the other.

She flew across the sky, and watched as the moon followed her through the parts of Midgard which were covered in the night. It was impossible to know where to start. If she were Silmeria, she could read the thoughts which remained in the object she held. What a useful skill that would be in finding Lucian. If she were Lenneth, she could listen and hear the thoughts of those close to death. How convenient that would make searching for Einherjar.

But she was Hrist, a reaper of souls upon Midgard. She could only go to a place where battles raged and pick up the slain that fell. Either that, or she could find a worthy warrior and kill him--although that seemed rather unfair. Perhaps that was because she was still Leone. Hrist shouldn't care, it was just the natural process of returning souls to the cycle of rebirth. Was there nothing worth hanging onto in a human life? Was there anything that had made her life as Leone worthwhile? If there was nothing, then what did it mean to be Hrist Valkyrie?

She could not remember. Maybe it was her very lack of memory that made her able to move on. Without a past to understand, she could only rely on intuition. Where were the souls that sung out to hers? She thought that if she could find them, then perhaps that meaning would become apparent.

She began to fly in the direction of the southeast, unsure exactly why. There was a kind of tugging and pulling sensation in her heart once again.

(2)

The arid desert town of Kallstad bustled with the activity following a rainstorm. Rarely the rains would come and transform the barren sands into plains with bursts of color here and there as each living thing hurried to reproduce and go back into hibernation before the heat became unbearable again. For now though, the constant struggle of man against sand for the town of Kallstad had come to a standstill.

A young lady with long hair the same color as the sandy road she walked upon ran from the outskirts of the little city to their small shrine which laid at the center of the adobe houses and the occasional tent. She was mystified with the abundance of tiny pink flowers blooming in between the cracks of the street. They had never been there before in her lifetime, which had only been a total of nineteen years, but long enough to think that she might have seen everything that her environment had to offer. She wondered what it would be like to stand in a field of flowers where the grass swayed like water--the place in her vivid, wonderful dreams.

She approached the shrine and gasped at the amount of flowers of every hue that dotted the courtyard all around. The shrine itself was built from white sandstone which had been drug out from the quarry to the north some centuries ago, after the fall of Dipan--that is to say, it was originally built in fear. It's patron town, Kallstad, was a popular trading outpost between the east and west lands, but the town had always been poor due to its constant struggle with the land. The decorations on the architecture of the structure were sparse, but there was one sculpture of note. It was a representation of Freya. Her features were mute and her body was not as feminine as one might have hoped for. Still, it pleased the young woman to see that the flowers had taken root in the statue's hand.

"Are you being married today, Freya?" she asked the statue quietly.

"Maybe so," came another female voice. This one was level and spoke of inner confidence. The girl jumped at the sound of it and turned around to find her older sister suited in light armor, carrying a sword by her side. Her golden hair sparkled in the sunlight with an uncommon radiance.

"Oh, Fortuna," the girl replied, "you scared me there."

Her sister laughed softly and looked up into the sky. "They must be celebrating something up there to bless us with a rain like this."

"Do you remember any rains before?" the girl asked. Her sister was the elder by just three years, but might have remembered more than she did.

"Never," Fortuna answered. "These were planted," she said, pointing to the flowers. "As soon as it started raining, everyone here spread the seeds about. They bloom as soon as the water touches them, you know."

"Oh yes, I know," her sister nodded, remembering times as a child when she had secretly poured drops of the precious water onto a handful of seeds and watched them bloom in her hand with wonder, then cried as they died tragic deaths at the end of their blissful but short lives.

"You should have seen them all," Fortuna replied and laughed again. "The men I mean, not the flowers. All of the soldiers sprinkling seeds about like little girls, it was hilarious."

"Why did they do that?"

Fortuna met her eyes with an amused smirk. "To attract pretty young girls like you to the shrine today, of course."

She looked down at her feet and her brows furrowed slightly in thought as she wove her fingers together nervously. "I-I doubt that I'm one they had in mind..."

"_Alicia_," Fortuna groaned, and clapped either hand on her sister's shoulders. She shook her slightly. "You are nineteen, it is time to start courting at the very least!"

"That isn't fair," Alicia replied as Fortuna rattled her playfully. "You have to get married before I do, it's a rule."

"A rule?" Fortuna replied. "Who made this rule?"

"Um..." Alicia fumbled, then with all the sincerity she could muster, she added, "Odin."

"_Odin?_"

"Yes, Odin, and that means that it's a holy law."

Fortuna shook her head. "You're spoiled rotten," she said. "Anyway, that rule is void regardlessly because I am a soldier now, and that means that I won't be getting married any time soon. Not unless they have eligible bachelors in Valhalla and I happen to meet a premature end."

"Don't make jokes about dying like that," Alicia whimpered. "I don't like it. What will I do if you die?"

"Goodness, I don't know," Fortuna answered sarcastically. "You might have to get married!"

"It really isn't funny!"

"Come on now, princess," Fortuna laughed.

Alicia made a face at the nickname which had been given to her many years ago when Fortuna and the other children in town discovered that she shared a name in common with the ancient kingdom's of Dipan's last princess. Though it had always been a popular name in many regions for just that reason, their mother denied having been influenced by that at all, claiming that the name just sounded _right_. Nevertheless, royalty and nobles and the like were not highly appreciated in the small town of Kallstad, and so the nickname had always felt more like an insult to Alicia. She hated to be treated like someone who had everything done for them by others, or like someone who needed to be protected.

"So why did you come to the shrine today?" Fortuna asked, interrupting the girl's thoughts.

"Oh," Alicia replied, snapping back to attention. "I came to ask if you would like to go to the bazaar with me today if you aren't too busy. I made some extra money last week, and the merchants are out now because of the rains."

"I'd love to, but I'm not able," Fortuna replied with a sigh. "Not everything the rains bring is good. Our scouts have detected some activity in the north, and I've been assigned to guard the northern sector this afternoon. I won't be relieved until daylight breaks."

"I understand," Alicia replied, hiding her disappointment.

The two said their parting words and Alicia turned back onto the road from which she had approached. Just before Fortuna was out of earshot, Alicia turned sharply and called to her. "Do you really think that you'll go to Valhalla?" she asked.

Fortuna calmly took a breath and turned to face her sister again. "That's for the Valkyrie to decide, isn't it? Why are you so worried?"

Alicia frowned. "I'm not a valiant warrior, but you are... if you go there, and I don't..."

Fortuna gave her a reassuring smile. "I don't think there's any way they could separate us," she answered. "In Asgard, in Neifleheim, or in another life, you will always be my sister. I feel that is true."

"Thanks, Fortuna," Alicia replied, and felt silly. "Sorry for being a bother."

Alicia began to leave one again, and this time made it out of Fortuna's sight without looking back again. She considered just going home since there was no fun in shopping alone, but it would be a shame to miss the bazaar on this special day. She raised her chin and decided to go to that place with or without Fortuna.

She really wasn't a princess, after all.

(3)

As expected, the bazaar was full of life and energy that day. Merchants from all over had gathered upon the trading outpost at the news of the rains, and were taking advantage of the traffic.

There were goods and fine clothing like she had never seen. Buying a dress for herself to wear would no doubt make her father and Fortuna happy, as they were both pushing her to date--but she was not interested. Instead, she took interest in one vendor in particular, who was selling items carved from a strong wood that could not be found in these parts. There she picked out a cane with a steel cap at the bottom and a comfortable handle wrought at the top. She decided to purchase it, and felt satisfied with the trip.

"Excuse me, miss?" Alicia heard a man ask, as she back away from the stand. She turned to find a young man with a beautiful face looking at her. He had golden blonde hair and blue eyes that reminded her of Fortuna's.

"Can I help you?" she said in such a meek and started voice that it was almost inaudible, clutching her parcel to her chest.

"Do you know if there's anyone in need of a sword for hire?" he asked gently. "Uh... sorry, did I scare you?"

Alicia was surprised even further by this. "Are you a mercenary?"

"Not exactly," he laughed, and extended his hand in greeting. "I've traveled from far away. So far, in fact, that I'm afraid I've run out of funds for my travels. I'm looking for work. Um... are mercenaries unwelcome here or something?"

"Oh no," Alicia replied, and shook his hand timidly before dropping it. Fortuna's scolding tone rang in her head. She was never going to be married if she locked up completely at the mere sight of a new face! "I was just a little startled," she said. "We don't have a lot of work here, so mercenaries almost never pass through. Most people here can't afford to hire anyone like that even if there were work to be done, but you could check at the shrine. They might be able to use another soldier. Even if not, they will let you stay there for a while. I wouldn't leave town after dark right now... the rains have brought all of the wildlife out, including the monsters."

"Thank you very much for your advice," he said. "Now, would you mind if I were to ask you a few questions? They might sound strange to you, but it would help me greatly."

"I'll listen," Alicia said with a nod.

"All right, but I warn you, it's strange," he answered. "Have your soldiers encountered trolls in this part of Midgard?"

"In the quarry I think they have," Alicia replied. "Nobody ever goes down there anymore, though."

"How do they act towards humans?" he asked. "Have you ever heard of them kidnaping humans?"

"I don't think so," she answered. "They stay to themselves and when they encounter humans, they try to kill them at first sight."

He appeared to be disappointed and looked down at the ground. "So you haven't ever heard of them working for a master, have you?"

"No, I haven't." Alicia saw that he had the look of someone who has traveled a long way for naught and felt sympathy for him. She was supposed to be branching out, finding new people to talk to, looking for a kindred spirit. With a little more bravery summoned, she asked him, "would you mind telling me why you need to know these things?"

"It's nothing to be concerned about," he said, giving her a smile that was obviously forced. "It doesn't have anything to do with your town, just a personal venture of mine."

"Maybe I could keep an eye out if I knew why you were asking," Alicia said, stepping closer towards him, pressing her fingers together to hide her anxiety. "You've obviously traveled quite a way. Though very few people here know much about events around the world, travelers do pass through often on their way to other parts. Someone is bound to know something."

"Well, it's a long story..." He trailed off, but when he looked back at Alicia, she was still waiting expectingly for the rest of it. "Why don't we find a place to sit down?"

"Okay," Alicia replied, and quickly located a stack of empty barrels that would suit the situation. She perched upon the tallest one and watched as the traveler loosened the fastenings on his armor and allowed his chest and shoulder plates to drop to the ground.

"Pardon me, that stuff is killing me in this heat."

"I imagine it's pretty heavy too," Alicia said, wondering how her sister was able to wear such a thing every day. She pulled a flask from a pouch at her hip and offered it to him. "It's usually even hotter, and water is sparse. Don't worry about it today though, we just had a rain. That's why everyone is so excited. Drink as much as you want before it evaporates."

"Thank you, you're very kind," he replied, and sat down on the shorter barrel to take a drink. "I don't think I've even gotten your name."

"It's Alicia," she responded.

"Like the princess?" he laughed. Alicia wrinkled her nose up at this. "Ah... never mind. I'm Lucian, pleasure to meet you." When he had done sipping a polite amount of the water, he wiped his mouth and handed it back to her.

"Would you tell me your story now?" she asked. There was a hint of excitement in her voice. "I've never left Kallstad. Have you been to many places?"

"Yes, pretty much all over the western lands," he replied. "I don't know if it qualifies as much of a 'story' though." Alicia waited a moment awkwardly, and so he continued without a prompt.

"I come from a village far north of here, past Villnore. It's not a big place, kind of like this town, really. A few years ago we were attacked by a group of trolls. They trashed the place, but they didn't seem intent on plundering. In fact, the only thing that they stole was a young girl. I've been traveling ever since, hoping to find her. We thought that these trolls must have been under someone's control, and that the girl ended up being sold as a slave. She was so beautiful, a wicked man would pay riches to have her no doubt. I've been seeking out slave traders to no avail. They're hard to find, which I guess is a good thing."

Alicia listened, but with less and less hope as his story went on. "What did she look like?" she asked, more to humor him than anything else.

"She had long silver hair like no one else I've ever met," he said. His voice took on a distant and dreamy tone all of the sudden which threw Alicia off. She thought he must be a naive and love struck young man, tragically stuck on a girl who had been dead for years. Most likely those trolls had simply eaten her, not that she cared to tell him that.

"There are many people with silver hair in Kallstad," she answered. "But I'm pretty sure they were all born here..."

"I know what you are thinking," he laughed. "You probably think I'm crazy and maybe even pathetic to hold onto the hope that she may still be alive after all of this time."

"N-no," Alicia lied. "I think it's--"

"This probably won't make you feel any differently," he interrupted, "but I would know if she was really dead. Somehow I know that it would be like being stabbed right here," he clapped his hand to his chest.

Alicia stood again and rocked back and forth on her heels for a moment, leaving Lucian to wonder at her silently until she turned and addressed him again. "Do you feel like your hearts are connected somehow?" she asked him. "I feel that way too. If my sister ever died, I would feel that way. I'm probably even stranger than you are."

"Ha, I doubt it."

"No, honestly," she went on and laughed at herself. "If I ever feel that way about someone, it'll have to be a traveler, because I know I haven't met him yet."

Lucian laughed in return. "Is that why you humored my tale?"

"N-no," Alicia stammered. "I hope that you find the girl who you are looking for."

Lucian stood and lifted his armor back onto his shoulders. "And I hope you meet that someone," he replied. "Midgard's not such an enormous place, is it?"

"It is to someone like me," Alicia sighed. "But thank you."

"No, Thank you for your help, and for taking me seriously."

Alicia smiled as he went on his way. She turned in the direction of her home and held her parcel close to her chest. Her heart ached; it felt as if someone was pulling on it.

(4)

Alicia's home was a quaint residence on the outside of town owned by her father, who once worked as a soldier in the same position as Fortuna. He had broken his leg in a manner that had never healed correctly and ever since had hobbled when he walked. This made daily chores possible, but it was left up to the women to make any money for the family after their savings ran dry.

Their mother had been bedridden entirely since Alicia could remember, and could only sell small crafts like weaving and embroidery for living, which few people in Kallstad could afford though they were the best in town. The girls would have to marry off to support their parents, and neither wanted to do that.

It was at the time of their father's accident that Fortuna decided to pursue the life of a soldier herself, leaving Alicia with the freedom to do whatever she wished. Alicia always felt guilty for accepting her sister's charity in this manner, and worked as hard as she could to raise food in their garden. Whatever she could save, she sold. Thanks to the rains, there would be plenty for months.

Their home was a wood and clay structure which resisted the hot sun. It was small in terms of square feet, but had two floors and a basement. The ceilings were low and the rooms were divided by colorful fabrics woven by her mother. Alicia entered through the front door left open to let in the breeze and found her father sitting by a lamp lit at the center of the room. It was pleasantly cool inside, another wonder brought on by the rains.

"There's my little princess!" her father greeted her, limping to the door on his cane. It was a piece of wood that would hardly hold his weight. "Did you have fun thanks to the rains today?"

Alicia hated to be called that, but allowed her father to get away with it. He was the only one who was pardoned. "Yes, everyone was so energetic at the market," she explained. "I got you a gift."

"Silly girl," he answered, as she held out a oak cane with steel tips that had been brought all the way from Villnore. "I've already got one of these, and I break them so often, you shouldn't have spent your pay on one!"

"The point is that this one won't break so easily," she laughed. "Shopping for myself alone is no fun anyway."

"You should have bought yourself a dress," he scolded. "But you're a sweet girl. The truth is that we anticipated this, so your mother and I have gotten you something. Come on upstairs."

"Oh?" Alicia asked, and followed her father up the clay staircase. The upper floor was just two small rooms, one for her mother and father, and one for Fortuna and herself--just her now that Fortuna was at the shrine, and how lonely it had been since then.

She entered her mother's room and hurried to light a few more candles to see by. "You shouldn't sit in such dim light," Alicia said.

"And you shouldn't work so hard," her father retorted. "Sit down with your mother, let me light a few."

Alicia sat on the bed next to her mother, who was always sitting upright looking over some craft or another. Today she had something hidden under the cloth that she normally worked on. Alicia assumed that this was the surprise.

Alicia thought that her mother was very beautiful. She had dark hair and pale skin, though that may have been due to the lack of sun more than anything else. Her father was a well-tanned man with brown hair. She resembled neither of them, and neither did Fortuna, though the two girls looked almost alike enough to be twins. Fortuna's hair had always been more gold and curly, and that suited her well. She was the golden child full of life, and Alicia had always been the meek one who failed to be noticed more often than not, at least outside of their family. Her parents fawned on her as the youngest quite a bit, just as they were doing now, to compensate.

"Here, I bought these materials at the market some time ago, and your mother worked them into something nice. We had other plans for it, but those things don't matter now."

"Other plans?" Alicia asked.

"We were going to make it a wedding gift for one of you girls, but ah..."

Alicia laughed. "But... neither of us looks like we're getting married any time soon?"

"Nonsense, but maybe it would be put to better use helping you attract a man?" She marveled about how openly her own father spoke about marrying her off. Just a few years ago, when she and Fortuna were teens, boys were not allowed within a five-mile radius without facing his wrath.

She watched as he reached to his wife and she handed him a shining trinket. He presented it to her. It was a hand-wrought silver hairpiece with sky-blue stones set into the weaving threads of metal. "How did you ever afford that?" Alicia gasped when she saw it.

"No problem, now that the rains have come," he chuckled.

"Put it on her," her mother insisted. "And show her a mirror once you do. It goes right over her bangs to hold them in place," she continued to instruct while her father fumbled to set the accessory into her hair. "There, just like that, but straighten her hair out."

Alicia felt silly while they were doing all of this, but sat patiently. "You needn't go to such trouble," she answered.

"You've been working very hard," her mother replied. "I see many girls your age wearing pretty things they've gotten from their new husbands, and your father has his mind set on taking care of you just as well as any of them."

"Thank you both so much," Alicia said, looking in the mirror. When she saw how it caught her hair and laid it over her face, it felt perfect.

(5)

The night after the rains was calm and cool. A breeze blew through, shaking the sparse plant-life. Little nocturnal creatures could he heard scurrying in ever shadow. The moon hanging nearly full and large overhead cast light enough to make the way safe and easy as Lucian climbed the hill at the center of town. He wondered how he could have the luck to wander into Kallstad during an event which may only happen once in a few decades. Yet after searching for five years, he had no idea where Platina was.

He thought about her and sighed, but his journey wasn't just about Platina. He was well aware that with each passing day, the chances of finding her only became worse. It was likely that he would never find her. He also knew that his memory of her became more fiction than reality as time passed on. Had she really been that beautiful and kind, or did he simply remember her that way because he wanted to? If they had been allowed to live together peacefully, would he really have made her his wife, or was that all a innocent little boy's dream, completely devoid of reality?

This journey was about his own growth. He had lost the thing that he cared most about, and thus the town where he grew up no longer belonged to him. When had he last seen his own sister? His family must consider him completely mad at the best, but it did not matter to him. Ungrateful as he may seem to the family that raised him, he had to search this world and reclaim something from it. The world owed it to him for taking her away, and he would work for it if he had to in order to reclaim it, or something of equal value. That was a vow, and a man is bound to fulfill his vows, lest the gods damn his soul. This he thought as he passed the sculpture of Freya outside the shrine. The flowers in her hands were shriveling, playing out their tragic death scenes.

The entrance of the shrine was a sturdy double-door which led into a greeting chamber. No one was there at this time, though it wasn't so late to Lucian. The sun had gone down not an hour ago. Down to the left and right were halls leading to smaller rooms, where he assumed the shrine guardians lived. Directly in front of him was another doorway, this one purely decorative, which led to the chamber of worship. He passed through them, looking all about for someone to speak to.

"Hello?" he asked. His voice resonated on the domed walls of the chamber. The sun outside had set, letting only the moon's light through.

"I'm sorry," a woman's voice replied. It was clear and almost lyrical. "Do you need a light?" He heard a stone strike, and a candle was lit.

When he saw her, his eyes opened wide. She looked so familiar, so much like Platina somehow. When he looked again, he decided that this must be a trick of the dim light combined with his own wish to finally find the girl who was literally of his dreams. Her hair was not silver, but gold. Her face seemed similar, but upon yet a third glance at her, he saw that she was more similar to the girl he had met this afternoon.

She looked at him and her eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Who are you?" she asked. "I don't recognize you."

"Just a traveler, miss," he replied. "I have two hands and a sword for hire if anyone would be willing."

"Unfortunately not," she replied. "You can stay here tonight and eat dinner with us, but I would suggest that you look for work in Crell Monterfrienge. Artolia would be the best place, but I wouldn't go within fifty miles of that place any time soon."

"I've just come a distance from Gerabellum," he said, and hung his head. "I heard that just after I left, war in the western nations was declared."

"Yes, it was," she said. "We may be so small that the giants overlook us, thank the gods. However, we are too small to support hired soldiers from abroad. I am sorry."

"No trouble," he replied with a smile. "I would like to make it up for the night's board and the meal, though. Would you let me at least clean the floors or something?"

She grinned brightly, and he could see some machinations forming in her head. "Oh, I'll put you to work for a night if that is what you want," she said. "My name is Fortuna, who would you be?"

"Lucian," he replied. "Pardon my asking, but do you have a sister? I met a girl who looked just like you at the market today. She is the one who suggested that I come here."

Fortuna pressed her fingers to her forehead as if she was suddenly under an undue amount of stress. "Why would she do that?" she grumbled. "You could have just used my bed at home."

Lucian held his hands up in an awkward defense. "Don't be cross with her, please. I wouldn't want to impose upon a family home in any case."

"I know," she sighed and smiled again. "What I was wondering is why she would just pass a young man such as yourself onto me, does she have an ulterior motive, perhaps?"

"Like what?" Lucian answered, oblivious to the race against marriage between the two sisters.

"Never you mind," she replied. "Come, let us eat dinner."

She led him out of the worship chamber and down the left hall to a door that glowed with a warm light from inside. A steady murmur of men's voices could be heard from the other side. She led him into the kitchen where there were four tables for ten men each, and all were full. An elderly shrine keeper passed out plates of food. Lucian had not eaten well in days. The smell of it made him sick with hunger.

"Attention everyone!" Fortuna called out. Each and every man from the young trainees to the trail-worn soldiers silenced and looked up. "This man is our guest this evening, he's agreed to work for me tonight in exchange for our hospitality!"

"Run, boy!" one of the elder men shouted with a hearty guffaw. "It ain't what it sounds, she'll make a slave of ya!"

"I'd like to work for Fortuna all night," one of the younger men sighed dreamily.

"Why don't you just hang yourself now and save the trouble?" another replied to him.

Lucian forced a smile through all of this. "Pleased to meet you all."

He sat at the table next to Fortuna and wondered how he had ever thought her similar to Platina. Alicia was more like Platina than anyone else. How intensely different the sisters were, like the sun and the moon; or maybe more like two sides of a coin as the old phrase went.

(6)

The evening had been fun, Fortuna thought as she went to her room at the shrine. As the only female soldier and one of the higher-ranking members, she had a room to herself. It was small, but the others split rooms of similar size between three. Fortuna had done her best to stand as a lone symbol of strength and pride, both for her family and the desert town that she loved. She liked to think that she was above trivial feelings such as the desire for companionship.

She only wanted Alicia to be happy, to give her things like a loving husband and beautiful children--even if that meant forgoing happiness herself. When she asked herself why, the answer never came clearly. It was as if she wanted to make it up to Alicia for stealing these opportunities from her, but she could remember any past grievances with her sister that would justify her feelings. Often in fact, it felt as if her emotions sprang from events she could not recall. It felt wrong to fight against them.

She laid in her bed and remembered fondly how Alicia would often sneak in with her and sleep curled up by her side. She would love to have that kind of companionship right now, though the two girls had been forced to grow out of it. It was more natural for a woman her age to long for a partner in bed rather than a friend.

There it was--with that thought rattling around in her brain, she knew she would never get to sleep. She gave in and stepped out of bed to find some way of clearing her mind. Perhaps she could bother Lucian for some conversation. That was, if the poor young man was not fast asleep from exhaustion. She had made him scrub every window frame and tile of floor, just because it was amusing how he obeyed without complaint. It was really too bad that she could not afford to have him stay here. Such a loyal pet would make a fine present for Alicia someday.

She took an extra pillow and blanket from her closet and went to the chamber of worship where Lucian slept on a row of seats for lack of a bed. He was still awake, tossing and turning on the dry woven chair. She tossed the pillow and blanket to him.

"You've earned these as well," she said, as he turned over sleepily and looked at her.

"This isn't so bad," he said. "You know, I would stay and just sleep here if you let me."

"And yet my heart tells me to push you onwards," Fortuna replied.

Lucian watched her in the greatest confusion. "What do my affairs matter to your heart, might I ask?"

"My soul sings," Fortuna replied. "It has a melody which leads it, and so does yours."

"Do they sing harmoniously, or out of tune?" Lucian asked her, humoring the analogy. "You and your sister are both strange ones."

"They are in harmony," Fortuna replied. "That is how I know that you must press on with your journey. It feels right."

"My journey is driven by delusion and guilt," Lucian said as he laid down once more, with the pillow and blanket in place.

"Reasons valid as any," Fortuna replied. "Sleep well. If we do not see each other tomorrow, then I bid you fare the well, and I do hope that we shall meet again in the future."

(7)

Days passes and the struggle to prevent Kallstad from being buried under the sand renewed. Alicia had saved and hidden many jugs of water in her family's basement away from the unforgiving sun. It would make their lived for months to come a great deal easier.

She left her home that morning and headed for the shrine. It had been several days since she had seen Fortuna, so she packed a lunch for two. The air was arid and hot again. She adjusted the hood of her rose-colored mantilla both the shield her eyes from the sun and to hide the gift her mother had designed. She did not want to take it off, but if Fortuna saw it, she would certainly tease. She also wore a white dress today because it was so hot. Her mother had embroidered flowers around the hem of it. It hadn't been intentional, but she looked very girly today.

The flowers all around the shrine had died and withered away. There was little left of them except for a few dried up stems here and there. Alicia sighed in dismay as she pushed the doors open. She crept up the stairs quietly and slipped inside without anyone noticing. She hoped to catch Fortuna in a candid moment, to see how her sister acted among others. Perhaps she might which young men were interested in Fortuna at the moment, and see if any could win her favor. Surely, to wed Fortuna, you must have an ally in Alicia.

She found Fortuna in one of the planning rooms where the knights of the shrine often met to plan their strategy. She stood in front of a map unrolled on a large table. "I believe that they are in this area," Fortuna said to an older man standing beside her, not someone who Alicia found fit for Foruna's romantic taste to her disappointment, but the strongest of them all, their leader. He had been a friend of their father for many years.

"Thank you for scouting for us," he replied. "I'll organize a party this afternoon, we'll leave tomorrow."

After saying their goodbyes, the man left the room and Fortuna began to roll the map for storage. After he passed by, Alicia slipped into the room. "Good morning, Fortuna!" she greeted her cheerfully.

Fortuna sighed and looked at Alicia with a tiresome expression. "Seeing you does help a bit," she said. "Though the rest of the wildlife seems to be settling down, the monsters from the northern quarry are not letting up. I suppose I can relax for the rest of the day, but tomorrow we will begin a campaign to eradicate them once and for all."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Alicia said. "But, maybe it will make your work easier in the future, and hey... as long as you have the day off, why don't we have some fun?"

"I need to go to the market anyway," Fortuna agreed with a smile. "Oh, did you buy that hairpeice yesterday? It looks nice on you."

"Mother made it," Alicia responded, while pulling her shawl down to hide it. "I like it a lot."

"Then why are you trying to hide it?" Fortuna laughed.

"Because," Alicia mumbled. "Why don't we just get going, okay?"

"Fine," Fortuna sighed, "But I can't leave just yet. Can you wait?"

"Oh, first we should have lunch and maybe a prayer," Alicia answered. "We should thank them for the rains, right?"

"Lunch first," Fortuna suggested. "No reason to pray on an empty stomach."

"There should be enough to make a meal for at least five in the kitchen," Fortuna said. "I'll invite a few of the knights so that you can meet them."

"Oh, that would be wonderful," Alicia replied. "Oh, and did you meet a young man named Lucian by any chance?"

"Oh yeah, he stayed by a few nights ago," Fortuna said, thinking on it. "He's gone though, I told him he'd be better off making a trip out to the next town to look for work than to stay here." She looked at Alicia closely. "You seem disappointed, did you like him?"

"Maybe a little, but it doesn't matter," Alicia explained, very quickly and clearly. "I liked talking to him, but he is looking for a girl that he is in love with anyway."

"Aren't they all," Fortuna laughed. "Oh well. He's three days out of Kallstad, but maybe he'll come by again." That sounded about as likely to Alicia as Lucian finding his long-lost love.

"I hope he finds that girl," Alicia said absently,as she began to daydream about where that young man and his missing childhood love might be right now.

"You aren't supposed to hope that!" Fortuna laughed. "Come on, let's get some food."

(8)

An hour later, Alicia presented Fortuna and three of her friends with a simple meal. The kitchen had been stocked well, but only with the most basic ingredients. Regardless of that, the four of them dug into the dishes with zeal. One was energetic and friendly, one was polite and quiet, the last was stoic but seemed extremely thankful for the cooking.

"You are very welcome," Alicia said, after a multitude of thanks from each.

"You must forgive their behavior," Fortuna laughed. "These three have not seen a good meal since they last saw their mothers."

"It's true!" the lively young man said. "You should bring Miss Alicia to us more often!"

Alicia listened modestly without saying much as they continued to compliment her. This went on for some time along with a great deal of laughter and rambunctious behavior. The luncheon was a pleasant experience; but though Fortuna seemed to fit seamlessly into the group, Alicia felt that she was somehow not a part of it. It was not that the others were being uninviting; by all means, they were all but begging her to accompany them. It was simply that she felt out of place, like something added to a painting that shouldn't have been there.

Her thoughts were broken as a cry was heard from outside, then the sound of the shrine's front entrance opening with a clatter. Fortuna jumped up from her seat, as did the others. Alicia was the last to stand. More shouts followed. Alicia made out only one. "To arms!"

"Stay here!" Fortuna commanded Alicia in a voice that was frighteningly forceful. Alicia obeyed as Fortuna and the three knights rushed out of the room, but could not stay seated for long. She was soon at the door looking down the hallway to the entrance so that she could hear what was going on.

The leader from before was speaking to Fortuna, and he looked harried and exhausted. "They just started pouring in from the mountain quarry," he said, "with undead mages casting spells the likes of which we've never seen!"

Alicia saw that droves of people were pouring in from the outside, seeking shelter in the shrine. She ran back into the kitchen to a window. Standing on the tips of her toes, she looked out and saw the massacre occurring in the center of town. In the blink of an eye, monsters from the north had descended upon the town in droves, some flying in the sky, and some skittering on the ground. Were these the ones that Fortuna was speaking of wiping out earlier, she wondered? What could have sparked this sudden attack?

In a whirl of commotion, she found herself leading confused families into the kitchen for safety. More and more came in from the town, which led Alicia to believe that it must be horrible outside, though she had neither the time or the will to look out. After what seemed like just minutes but must have been an hour, all of the rooms in the shrince were filled with refugees and could hold no more. Everything happened so quickly. her heart pounded in her chest and her body seemed to move on it's own accord in reaction.

At this point Alicia was tired and began to awaken to the severity of the situation. Their town was under heavy attack and no one knew why or how it could have happened so quickly. She heard another loud noise and ran out into the central chamber to find Fortuna. "Alicia!" her sister shouted, and tossed a sword to her. "Stay behind me!"

Before Alicia knew what exactly her sister had thrown her this weapon for, the door which had been barred broke open. Fortuna and her fellow knights met the intruders-- sickly-looking, bony monstrosities, with sword and ax. Arrows whizzed past her head and claws slashed at her feet.

Some hours ago, this place had been a peaceful place of rest and worship. Now there was blood and dirt and death. She was scared, paralyzed with fright, and confused. Finally, her instinct took over where her logic would not stand. There was something carnally comfortable about all this. Once she let herself go, she found that she did belong here--she _could_ fight.

Sword in hand, she fought back the horde alongside Fortuna and her knights. This was the first time that Alicia had fought anything that was trying to kill her, and the difference between this and frightening off foxes was amazing. Her skill with the sword was better than she would have expected, but she planned nothing that she was doing. Each strike was just a reaction and nothing more.

Metal flew against claw and horn, and the knights were driven back. Alicia watched in horror as one fell limp to the floor. She quickly grabbed him, kicked the smaller monsters off of his body, and dragged him to the back. It was no use. The young man was dead.

Closed up in the shrine, their predicament was one of ill fate. Alicia found herself at the foot of a clay monument to the battle maiden, Valkyrie. Her arms which held her weapon ready were shaking and her clothes well-chosen for an outing were spattered with blood.

"Stand together, don't give up!" Fortuna shouted above the roars and screams. Yet, one after another, each of the young men she had invited for lunch fell, and the two women found themselves standing alone, separated from the others by an impassible sea of the undead creatures. "Come on!" Fortuna shouted, and grabbed her sister by the arm. They ran past the statue of Valkyrie to the back of the shrine, where Fortuna kicked a smaller sculpture of some minor deity's symbol over, revealing a lever. This caused a well-hidden seam in the architecture to appear and a door opened for them. Fortuna firmly pushed Alicia inside, and pulled the lever down again.

"Fortuna!" Alicia shouted from within the dark, incredibly dark chamber. There was no reply. "Fortuna!" she screamed again even more desperately, and began to beat her fists against the door. She beat upon it with all of her might until her fists had bloodied. "Don't leave me! Don't go without me! Fortuna!"

_Why does it feel that I've been here before?_

"Fortuna _please_!" she shouted finally, "I'll fight with you, I'll go _with you_!"

Though many screams of anguish followed, none of them belonged to Fortuna. After exhausting herself to the point of collapse, Alicia listened in tears as the battle waged into the night, never hearing more of her sister. Those who had come to seek shelter in the shrine were likely dead, all save for her. She thought of her parents who lived on the outskirts of town. Perhaps her father could stand against them, but he would struggle to the last protecting her mother, who would not be able to move.

Only by the coincidence of her position within the shrine and the self-sacrifice of her sister did she live, and for what? She would starve in this secret compartment. For a moment she considered taking her own life, but instead laid down, exhausted, and slept only due to the fatigue.

The day had shattered like glass, and night fell over a silent Kallstad.

(9)

"What in the Hel happened _here_?" Kashell exclaimed as he, Celia, and Aelia entered the town of Kallstad--or at least what remained of it. The earthen clay buildings had been crushed, and everything that would light fire had long burned to the ground.

Their journey had begun by setting out for Crell Monterfrienge, where they hoped to find either work or clues concerning Grey's whereabouts, or both if they could possibly manage it. The town of Kallstad had been completely ransacked and stood now as nothing but a ghost town along their path, once a small but lively outpost community.

"Looks like they came by some hard luck," Aelia answered with a lack of sensitivity. "No one has even reported this, have they? It must have happened just days ago..."

Celia looked upon the scattered remains of the town in sympathy. "And not even a messenger escaped the sudden onslaught," she said. "It must have been a sudden attack, huge numbers upon the town in a matter of minutes..."

"What the--" Kashell stammered as he spotted something glittering in the abrasive sunlight. "Is that some kind of statue?"

"No," Celia said, catching sight of what appeared to be a life-sized sculpture of a man in terror. "That isn't a statue at all..."

They approached, and found many others like it around. Men, women, and children, all had been turned to stone, or so it seemed. But this stone was translucent blue. "They look crystalized," Kashell said, "or frozen..."

Aelia was the first to dare to touch one of the silent statues, one of a woman who was hiding her face while trying to defend her children, who were now in the same state. She pressed one finger against the woman's shoulder and then pulled it away sharply. "Ah!" she exclaimed. "It's cold!"

"Stop that!" Celia scolded. "What if you had turned to ice just as well?"

"Someone had to try it," Aelia answered.

Kashell looked over this group in thought. "Ice which does not melt, even in the hottest summer of Kalstad?" he asked them. "This is not standard sorcery, I'd wager."

"You're right," Celia replied, "This goes way beyond the powers of a cocktrice, and I'm not sure than even Medusa could have..."

"No, not like this," Aelia said. "At least it's not that."

"I suppose," Celia continued, " if there were survivors, they would be up at the shrine."

"Let's go check it out," Kashell said. "Maybe there's something in it for us yet."

(10)

They reached the shrine in short time and found that someone had attempted to barricade the front door, and failed. Kashell stood over the rubble left by the wave of destruction. He whistled a long cord in awe. "Looks like this barricade has been blown clear apart by fire magic," he said. "There's nothing they could have done about it even with a little more time to prepare."

Celia was inspecting the frozen likeness of a soldier, one whose arm had been broken off after the fact. "I wonder if it could be mended," she said doubtfully. "Or perhaps we could at least take the arm back for study."

"No way I'm lugging some frozen guy's arm around," Aelia said. "Come on, this would all be easier if we could just find somebody to tell us what happened."

Celia frowned at her impatient friend, but followed her into the shrine. Through a hall to the left there were rooms, likely full of frozen people. "Hello?" she called out to anyone who might be lucky enough to hear her. "Is anyone still alive?"

Immediately, they heard a banging sound from the back of the shrine. "Let me out!" came a muffled voice. "Is someone there? Please let me out, I'm trapped!"

"We've got ourselves a single girl left," Kashell sighed, inspecting the area where the banging was coming from. The frozen figure of a beautiful female knight was standing in front of it. "Too bad, this one here is a real loss," he joked.

"Just let the poor girl out," Celia reprimanded him. "She's probably been in there for days!"

"I would, if I could just find the doorknob," Kashell answered. "Hey, girl!" he shouted. "How do you open this door?"

"I think there's a lever!" the trapped young lady responded. "It should be to your right..."

"Correction," Kashell stated, "there _was_ a lever. It's been broken, probably to keep the monsters out."

"Move aside you weak male," Aelia huffed, and shoved Kashell out of the way. "I'll show you how to open a door. Now you inside, stand back and to the side, if you can!"

"Okay," the girl responded meekly.

Aelia wielded her lance, and with a powerful assault accompanied by a yell, she thrust it into the trap door, leaving an immense indentation. The bottom had given way, and with the combined efforts of Aelia and Kashell, it was pried open.

A young woman with long, silky, sandy blonde hair stumbled out of the dark compartment and tripped. Kashell caught her and held her steady. "Thank you," she said. Her voice sounded weak.

"Poor thing," Celia said, and motioned for Kashell to lay her down against the wall. "How long have you been inside?"

"Don't know," she replied breathilly. "It was pitch black... there was an old jug of water, but I haven't eaten..."

"Quickly," Celia said to Aelia, "could you make something soft, like rice? We have some in our supplies if there is none to be found in their kitchen."

"In that kitchen full of statues?" Aelia responded in disgust. "No thanks, I would rather build a fire myself."

"If you insist," Celia said, "but be quick, please." Aelia shrugged and went outside to go about the task.

"In the mean time, I've got a stick of jerky," Kashell said. "It isn't the best, but it's something. Make sure you chew it well even though I know you're starving."

"Yes, thank you," the girl replied, and gladly took the small offering. She appeared to have some trouble forcing herself to chew first, but managed not to vomit, and that was a good sign.

"Who are you?" he asked. "What happened here?"

"My name is Alicia," she said. "I was just visiting the shrine when suddenly... there were monsters everywhere. I have no idea where they came from or why, and it was so fast... we had nowhere to run. We filled all of the rooms of the shrine up with people to try and protect them, but they came in anyway. They pushed a few of the knights and myself to the back of the shrine, and my sister... she pushed me in here. That room is meant to be a compartment for sacred treasures. It's only by a miracle that some water was stored there."

"Yeah, otherwise you'd have been better off frozen," Kashel replied. "We think it's been several days. You would have thirsted to death."

"Frozen?" Alicia replied. "What do you mean?"

Celia looked at Kashell warily, but he went on. "I hate to be the one to break it to you, but..." His eyes wandered up to the statue of the woman knight behind her.

Her eyes then followed, and she shuddered in fright before lunging towards the figure on all fours and shouting, "No!" Kashell held her back by the shoulders as she continued. "Fortuna! Why?"

For a moment both he and Celia listened to her shouts and perfectly understood her need to cry so, and then sympathized with her sobs afterwards. However, by the time that Aelia returned with a bowl of rice, her attitude had starkly changed. She stood as she took the bowl and looked at each of the three of them in turn as she began to eat it.

"Would you come with me to my house?" she asked. "I understand that you are mercenaries, so I will give you something worth your trip if you help me return to my home."

"Hey," Kashell replied, standing. "We may be swords for hire, but that doesn't mean we'd leave a poor girl in such a bad situation."

"It isn't like we've got much else to do," Aelia said. "One of our usual job informants got frozen right along with the rest of the town."

"Thank you," Alicia responded. By this time, she had completely cleaned the bowl. "I am sorry to be a trouble to you." Then the girl went to her sister's frozen body and said a small prayer for her. "I will return soon," she promised. "Please be safe until then, Fortuna."

Before leaving, Alicia led them to one of the shrine's rooms, this one which looked like a meeting area for the knights of the shrine. She reached up onto a shelf and found a map. "This is the one," she said to herself.

Celia, Kashell, and Aelia watched this curiously, but none rose a question at the moment. They could each feel the young woman's unstable mental state and wished not to destabilize her for any reason.

They accompanied the girl throughout the afternoon back to a small cottage on the edge of town. Inside, the young woman found her mother and father frozen solid just like the others, transformed into the ice that does not melt. Though they expected another breakdown, none came this time.

Alicia's father appeared to be a middle-aged man with a proud stature, though he limped on one leg. Like her sister Fortuna, he had been frozen into a gracefully dignified pose holding his sword at the ready, though it was no longer in his hands. It had fallen to the ground at his feet. Alicia lifted it, a slender and beautiful piece of craftsmanship, and swung it about herself with a surprising amount of skill.

"Would you excuse me for a moment," she asked them. "I am going to change. Please help yourself to any food in our pantry. It is certainly going to go to waste if not."

"Might as well," Aelia answered. "The trip was worth a free meal at the least."

"Could you be a little more sympathetic?" Kashell said, as the three of them left Alicia to herself. "What's the matter with you?"

Aelia laughed. "I think that girl's a little tougher than you had her pegged for. The cute little dress had me confused at first, but I think that she's got a warrior's heart under all of that."

"Ah, whatever," Kashell groaned. "Let's see what there is to eat."

Celia was already gathering up what food there was. "I found some chicken and a few greens," she said. "It's pretty good for a drought-struck town."

(6)

After a while, Alicia emerged from the back of the house. She was now dressed in her sister's clothes, a bodice and skirt with long leather boots and a pair of worker's gloves with a few of the fingers cut off to make gripping her sword easier. Her hair was held back with the hairpiece her mother had given her, and she wore a light white cloak over her shoulders to protect her from the sun. Stitched into its light fabric was a traditional pattern of their homeland. Though common to her, it was quite exotic to her mercenary companions. Her father's sword now rest in its hilt over her hip.

She looked to her family's dining table where the three warriors now sat amusingly enough in the seats normally reserved for her father, mother, and sister. Each of them raised their heads in different degrees of surprise at her transformation. She ignored this and sat down in her spot at the table. "There is also wine, if you want it," she said.

"Better not to drink before a grand strike," Aelia said.

"Oh?" Alicia replied. "Where were the three of you be going from here?"

"Come on now," Aelia laughed. "It seems clear to us that you are out for revenge, that's why you took the map from the shrine, isn't it? We couldn't rightly call ourselves warriors if we passed up the opportunity to wipe out a horde of demons."

"Revenge is not my priority," Alicia explained. "I wish to kill their leader in the hopes that this will release the spell upon my family and the rest of the town."

"That is likely," Celia added. "Yes, I'd like to go with you as well."

"Well now," Kashell boasted, "you can't do it without me!"

"Please," Aelia retorted. "Just admit that you'd jump at the chance to add another pretty lady to our group, you lech."

"Okay, you've got me there," Kashell admitted. "Well, let's rest a bit and then go before the sun comes up. It's always hot as blazes in these parts!"

Despite the horrible experiences of the past few days, Alicia managed to smile. She felt as if she belonged in this painting, as if these souls and their songs were the same as hers. "Do not worry, Fortuna," she said to herself as she laid down to sleep in the chilling silence that had swept over the town. "I will save you."


	7. Dark Lady Genevieve

**Chapter 7: Dark Lady Genevieve**

(notes: This chapter took a while because I was about to write myself into a hole. I probably did anyway, oh well! Oh yes, and please forgive me for naming Silmeria's reincarnation the same thing in two COMPLETELY different stories. They aren't the same personality at all, I just knew that if I tried to name her something else, I would end up messing it up.)

(1)

The mountains north of Kallstad were bare and rigid. Their dark silhouettes tore into the midnight blue sky on a clear night filled with stars. Another black figure bonded with them--Hrist Valkyrie touched her feet to the earth at the tip of the highest peak.

It had been nearly a week since Lord Rufus had left her on her own. In that time, she had searched Midgard for Einherjar to add to her flock. Her luck in finding battles was not as good as she would have expected with Artolia and Villnore on the verge of war, and her Einherjar had only had mild skirmishes with the undead and monsters. They needed a true test of their ability. If the ripping sensation that seemed to tear at her soul was any indication, that test could be found here.

Quietly she sprang from ledge to ledge, deeper down into the darkness that engulfed the mountain range. Her eyes could see beyond shadow and light. She was awakening to a new sense which led her onward. Here in the quarry below the mountains, something stirred. It was waiting, and it was filled with unconditional hatred towards all that lived--and those who lived on beyond death, at that.

She also felt the presence of humans like a spark lit in the dark. Their mission must be a desperate one to bring them here. Could even humans not feel the malevolent force which laid in waiting? Or, was that the very reason why they had come?

And something even stranger yet--she felt the presence of fallen warriors who were not in her company, neither were they of the undead. The resonating force of these three powers muddied her senses and made her extra-sensory vision blurry.

This enticed Hrist's curiosity, and she delved forward.

(2)

"Just how good are you with that sword, anyway?"

Alicia stirred from deep thought at the sound of Aeila's voice. Her new red-haired friend now walked close by her side, and she had not even noticed her approach. "My father taught me how to use it," she explained, and closed her eyes tightly to block out the image of her father's body frozen solid, turned to some magical substance. "He never had a son, so he taught us to pass it on. He said that I had a talent for it, but I never pursued it very far."

"That's too bad!" Aeila replied in a friendly manner, and clapped Alicia on the back. "You could have been my partner. I've been trying to get Celia to leave this worthless man behind for years, but she won't."

"Just keep talking like I'm not here," Kashell said from his position at the front of their formation without turning to look. "I'm ignoring you anyway."

"We must stay together," Celia said. Alicia heard the tone of horrible sadness and regret in her voice. "We... are all that we have left."

"Have you lost someone too?" Alicia asked with solemn respect for the loss.

"Yes," Celia replied. "Although it is not unusual in our work, the nature of the loss was quite a shock to us all."

"I feel like we have something in common, then," Alicia said.

"We should cut back on the talk from here on, ladies," Kashell interrupted. He had come to the opening of the quarry and held the torch in his hand up to read the sign posted overhead. "Property of Kallstad, it says," he read. "Simple enough."

Alicia pulled out the map to check it. "Yes, this is the safest entrance. Many years ago, the quarry was used by the people of Kallstad extensively. When the stone proved unprofitable and the monsters began to nest here, they decided that it was better to abandon it."

"It screams surprise attack," Kashell replied, as he looked up at their surroundings. They were walking further down a corridor carved out of the ground which would eventually lead them into a shaft.

"Can we really defeat the enemies inside?" Celia asked in a hushed voice. "They wiped out an entire town... We have no method of avoiding their attacks."

"I don't care if--" Aeila began, and though she had started out in a very determined tone, she silenced herself all at once and looked all about. "On your guard!" she commanded the others.

Though Alicia saw nothing, Celia pulled a small knife from a sheath at her side and flung it in the direction that Aeila now raised her lance. Something above them shifted. "What's there?" she asked them frantically, drawing her sword.

"I'd like to know too," Aeila responded. "I don't think it's human, but it isn't a demon either."

They heard more shifting, and then a voice. "We're human!" a young woman's voice called out. They saw a pair of arms flailing over the edge of the level above them. "More or less!"

"Show yourselves!" Aeila demanded.

The young woman dropped from above and landed in a perching pose before them. She was an archer with a cute face and dark hair pulled up high on her head. Her clothing was sewn of earthen tones and it looked archaic, like something out of another time. She had a bow and a set of arrows at her side, but her weapons were not drawn. "Greetings," she said. "My name is Chrystie."

"Is she from Kallstad?" Celia asked Alicia, never taking her eyes off their visitor.

"I don't recognize her," Alicia replied.

"There are more of them," Aeila interjected, pointing her lance at the young woman. "Tell your friends to come out and play before I run you through for spying on us!"

"You're not very friendly," Chrystie replied.

"Sorry," Aeila answered her unconvincingly, "but you don't smell like a human, and I'm not so affable to demons!"

"Dyn, Seluvia!" Chrystie called, waving her arm. "Come out and put their minds at rest, would you?"

They watched in wary patience, weapons ready to strike, as a young man in heavy robes bumbled down ungracefully from above. Alicia thought he looked very clean-cut and gentle, but knew that looks could be deceiving. He was followed by a man who was quite the opposite, big and muscular wearing armor that appeared to be of foreign make. He had a noble face and his hair was drawn up at the top of his head, trailing down in a thin streak like a swipe of ink.

"Who the Hel are you?" Kashell asked them.

"My, that's a poor choice of words," the younger man replied with an awkward laugh. "I'm Seluvia, this is my companion, Chrystie, and our associate of many years, Sir Dyn. If you wouldn't mind, we'd like to come along and help you put a stop to these undead minions."

"Why don't you smell like humans then?" Aeila sneered. Alicia thought that she looked positively canine-like in her pose.

Chrystie looked at Seluvia, he glanced at Dyn, Dyn never looked up, Seluvia looked back at Chrystie, and then with the deliberations completed, she spoke. "We're Einherjar," she said.

Kashell laughed and tightened his grip on his blade. "If you expect us to believe that, then you're crazy is what you are."

Chrystie took a step towards Alicia and leaned forward. Alicia took a step back in response. "Certainly _she_ knows us," she said.

"She already said that she doesn't know you," Aeila grumbled aggressively, stepping between Alicia and the stranger.

"She doesn't," the one called Dyn said, speaking up to correct his allies. "She never does. Leave her be."

"Such a shame," Chrystie sighed.

"Look," Kashell said frankly, "I don't know what your game is, but you all better move out before something serious goes down. We're not afraid to fight you all!"

"Please," Celia spoke up, putting her sword away. "Calm down. What reason do we have to doubt them? Aeila has said already that they are not human, and yet they are not of the undead... what else could they be, but the chosen fallen?"

"I can't believe that you're falling for this, Celia!" Kashell exclaimed. He looked to Aeila for support, and got none.

Aeila finally dropped her weapon back to her side. "She's right," she said. "They aren't undead, but they most certainly are dead somehow. There's nothing else that they could be."

Alicia thought on this and came up with an idea. "Could we administer a test of some sort?" she suggested in a cheerful manner. "A test to see if they are Einherjar?"

Kashell cocked a brow. "If you're an Einherjar, where's your Valkyrie, huh?" he asked them in challenge.

The three looked at each other once again. This time Dyn answered for them. "Must she always travel with such cocky long-haired fools?" he asked under his breath. Chrystie began to giggle at this, and Seluvia sighed in dismay. Dyn looked to Kashell. "Is it Valkyrie who you wish to see? You may meet her soon, if you delve into that quarry alone."

"He's right," Celia said. "No matter who they are, we need to combine forces in order to save Kallstad."

Seluvia spoke in a heavy and regretful voice. "Sadly, Kallstad is but the least of our troubles," he said. "Ragnorok nears. While the Vanir plan to conquer Valhalla, Queen Hel stirs in her underworld... we must do our part in Midgard to resist the flow of these events, lest all of Midgard fall to death and despair."

"Fine," Kashell sighed at last. "Let's just get this over with."

"Well spoken," Dyn said.

Kashell put his weapon away and began to lead the others past the sign that marked the entrance to the quarry. "Listen, Alicia," he whispered to her as they began to fall into a line. "Stay close to me. Whoever these people are, they seem to have some special interest in you. They may be trying to take advantage of you."

"I will stay right behind you," Alicia promised. "But I think they are good people."

"What makes you say that?"

Alicia looked back at Chrystie and the others, who fell in line behind Celia and Aeila. She thought they resembled a close family the way that they communicated simply with nods and glances. "They just feel that way," she said.

Kashell did not reply, but she knew by the look on his face that he did not approve of this. She smiled regardlessly, contented by the idea that her new friends would care so much for her safety. The darkness ahead and the sinking sensation of foreboding that surrounded this dark place weighed on her heart, but she remained hopeful because even though Fortuna was not there, she was not alone.

(3)

Hrist arrived at an entrance that led to a quarry. There, her senses failed her. The undead, the Einherjar, the humans, and that world-splitting unease that seemed to permeate the land conflicted. It was not as bad as it had been in the Weeping Lily Meadow and the town that laid near it, but it was a similar feeling. At least this time she was in her own mind.

She called for Llewelyn and Lemia and materialized their corporeal forms by her side. "Stay out here," she instructed them. "The two of you need more practice than the others. Walking about freely will serve to train you, but take care not to wander too far." She did not want to tell them that she also wanted them nearby to put herself at ease. A feeling of emptiness began to eat at her heart like never before.

Llewelyn took a long look at the ground in front of them by the light of the moon and the stars. It was a passageway leading into the quarry. A sign hung overhead informing visitors of which town it belonged to, though no one had staked this claim in many years. She watched as he studied the marks in the dirt. "Several people passed through here very recently," he said. "They went in to the quarry, and they haven't come out yet."

"How many?" Hrist asked next.

"At least five," he replied.

Lemia stood so closely behind Hrist that she accidently brushed the plate of armor at her shoulder and then jumped back. Hrist turned to find the meek young woman looking up at her in concern. "What is it?" she asked.

"Are they all... human?" she asked meekly.

Hrist turned to lead again. "We shall see."

(4)

The path wound down deeper into the quarry until shadow fell over their heads and they could no longer see the sky. By Kashell's light they made their way. They crossed old, dilapidated scaffolding and passed through crumbling passages.

"I always thought that the undead were merely legends," Alicia said, sure to keep her voice quiet enough to hear enemies if they were near.

"For the most part," Seluvia explained, "they have been, at least for the last several hundred years."

Kashell gave a cocksure wave of his hand. "And I'm sure that all of you know this because you're Einherjar," he said, obviously failing to believe it.

"What kind of Einherjar wouldn't know that?" Chrystie said in annoyance. Kashell blew a puff of air through his nostrils in silent anger.

"What happened to the undead?" Alicia asked, moving on with the subject.

"Centuries ago," Seluvia explained, "The undead were at war with the Aesir. Many of their ranks, including the Lord of the Undead, Brahms, were not evil spirits so much as simply those who opposed the gods and were cursed. They became undead as punishment from the gods. Two things happened when the war ended. For one, Brahms was killed. The undead lost any sort of organization that they might have had. Secondly, the gods called off their war, which allowed those unfortunate spirits who had been cursed simply due to their rebellion to finally rest."

Celia listened intently to their story. "And the result is...?"

"Those undead that remain are few and far between" Chrystie said. "But boy are they serious about their job."

"What do you mean?" Alicia asked.

"That those that remain are more dangerous than ever before," Seluvia explained.

Chrystie laughed bitterly, obviously finding this a gross understatement. "Yeah... I guess they just sit around in these kind of places hating the living more and more until they forget everything else, including who they once were. They lose all hope of ever moving on and grow more and more powerful as their psychic energy builds over hundreds of--"

"Speaking of the devil," Aelia interrupted. "I sense a few now. Weapons, everyone." By the time that she gave the command, the others had theirs in hand. On cue, the monsters began to file out from the passages in the quarry like rats smoked from an old building--skeletons, imps, and hellhounds.

Alicia pulled her sword and readied herself. She was able to breathe steadily and her hands no longer shook as she held the blade. "I shall not fail," she said gravely, and dashed ahead.

"Wait! Alicia!" Kashell shouted, and tried to run after her. A skeleton blocked his path, and before he could break through it, she was out of his reach.

"Let's go!" Dyn cried, and ran beside her.

"We're at your side, Alicia!" Chrystie called out, and released a burst of magical bolts from her arrow. They broke apart, flew around her allies, and converged again on Alicia's target, a large hound with a long whipping tail. Alicia swept under it with her sword, raising it into the air. Dyn smashed down upon it with his heavy blade, utterly destroying the creature.

Kashell stood with Aeila and Celia, all three backs facing the center of their group which was surrounded. "Looks like Alicia got ahead of us," he said.

"The girl is eager to save her sister," Celia explained.

"Let's catch up then, how about it?" Aeila shouted, hungry for battle.

"You don't have to tell me!" Kashell agreed.

Celia watched as the two of them began to swing their heavy weapons about, crushing everything in their wake like a couple of giants. She finished off anything that was unfortunate enough to survive with a follow-up swing from her sword before it was able to counter-attack.

The group moved quickly through the scaffolding to the part of the quarry which led underground into a mine. Seluvia went ahead of them here, shooting the thunder bolt spell through the narrow shaft to clear it of foes.

"They are powerful," Celia noted. She and Kashell brought up the rear.

"I still don't believe them," Kashell responded. "Don't take your eyes off of Alicia, I'm afraid for her. Such a young woman shouldn't have to fight in this manner."

"Yet the two of us can?" Aeila griped back at him.

"You know what I mean!"

"Silence," Celia scolded. "Keep your guard up or we won't make it through this alive!"

(5)

Hrist led Llewelyn, and Lemia through the path of dead monsters which littered the inside of the quarry. Each step she took was powerful and hurried, almost impatient. Something was here. There was something brilliant and beautiful here shrouded in the darkness, and it was in great danger. She held her lance at her side, obviously anticipating a fight, but said nothing.

"At least we'll have no trouble finding them," Llewelyn said in his small voice as he looked down at the strewn corpses.

"Make haste," Hrist demanded and broke into a sprint. "I sense great evil here." As pure as that light she sensed was, the darkness was only more abysmal in comparison. The undead here were more than simple lost spirits. There was a demon here, a dweller of Hel.

They continued through the mines, Hrist dispatching of the occasional left over creature. Her Einherjar followed, weapons drawn. As the cavern grew quiet, Hrist stopped and held still. She offered no explanation because she could hardly think of one for herself. She knew why her senses here were dull. That light in the darkness was filling her up, patching the tears in her spirit. It was the thing she had been searching for since her awakening as Valkyrie, and perhaps for her entire life before that as Leone.

A sister. _Who?_ Lenneth? Silmeria?

"Thorough, aren't they?" Llewelyn sighed, shoving the dead corpse of a gruesome thing with the top of his shoe. It amazed him how much interaction with the outside world he was still capable of.

"Is something the matter, Valkyrie?" Lemia asked Hrist. "You look distressed."

Suddenly Hrist broke into a sprint. "Quickly!" she shouted. "We must hurry!"

(6)

Alicia ran with Dyn and Chrystie at her sides, Seluvia lined up behind them. Why did this feel so very familiar? Why did this feel like it was exactly where she belonged? It was almost as if she were somehow closer to Fortuna at this moment, though the two were separated by such a distance.

They toppled one enemy after another without stopping. This high-paced running and killing gave her a rush like nothing she had felt before. It made her feel strong, powerful--like she could for once in her life control the direction of her fate. Celia, Kashell, and Aeila followed up, crushing bone and scale beneath their blades. They, too, were a part of this feeling. Together they would save Fortuna, and the rest of Kallstad. Together, they could not be stopped.

All at once, the sound of the enemies skittering feet which echoed very clearly ceased and all was silent. The mine shaft opened up into a natural cavern which spanned out over an acre before them. Stalagmites grew up from the floor, making it difficult to pass through to the other side. What's more, the chamber was lit by an unnatural emerald light which glowed from the center. There was a sparkling lattice of magical runes, throbbing with power.

"_Welcome, friends!_" a loud female voice rang out in the chamber. Fragile pegs of rock shook from the ceiling and crashed all around them as her voice reverberated on the walls.

"The Hel?" Kashell exclaimed, stepping close to Alicia with his sword raised to defend her.

"Not Hel, but close," the voice replied. "I am the Lady Genevieve, Cupid of the Underworld."

"Back, all of you!" Dyn commanded, waving his hand. "Don't come near!"

At the center of the room, a figure appeared, seeping out of the shadows to form a solid body. It was feminine, but far from human. "Is that you, Valkyrie?" she asked, eyes fixed on Alicia. "No... although I do sense her nearby..."

Alicia winced and pressed her eyes closed for a second to clear her head of the horrible voice. Then she opened them and pushed past Kashell , gripping her sword. "Tell me how to break the spell upon Kallstad!" she demanded, threatening the figure with her sword. "It's your doing, isn't it?"

"Yes, and if you like, I can help you join them," she laughed.

"Not likely!" Chrystie shouted, and sent an arrow flying at the source of the wicked voice. "We're immune to your trickery!"

"Einherjar in this day and age?" the woman replied, as she warped just a few feet to the right, and safely out of the way of the arrow. "How quaint. Where is your Valkyrie, noble warriors? Off hiding some place?"

"Silence, demon!" Chrystie replied, and sent more flying.

The arrows flew true, but their target phased out of its position and appeared once again behind the group. It was Celia who took the rear. She spun around in alarm, stepping back defensively with her sword.

"Celia!" Kashell shouted.

Celia ignored his cry and stood bravely between him and the lady demon. "Move back, Kashell," she commanded.

"Oh ho ho," Genevieve laughed. It sounded to Alicia like sand trapped in a gear, just grating away. A hand stretched out from the blackness, it was pure white and sickly, obviously not of the living. "How cute you are, sword-bearing girl... you use this man and his friends to justify yourself, devoting your life to the blade, unable to know that which lies in your own heart."

"I'll send my blade through yours!" Celia cried, and lunged at her. The blade struck the shadow at its center, but it only evaporated, forming once again at the center of the room.

"You've only brought one living man for me to play with," she said in a tone of great disappointment. "But let us have some fun!"

Celia shrieked. They each turned once more at the sound, except for Chrystie who kept her aim fixed on the target, trusting the others to keep her covered. What they saw caused Alicia to cry out as well. Kashell stood before Celia with his sword drawn, ready to strike. His muscles were tense as if he struggled against invisible bonds.

"Kashell!" Aeila shouted. "What are you doing? You fool!"

"It isn't him," Celia said, backing up against a wall. "He's possessed somehow!"

"Celia!" Alicia shouted and ran towards her.

The laughter like nails scraping against stone echoed through the chamber again. "Yes, go to your friend, girl, make her heart sing with jealousy and anguish."

"You beast!" Seluvia cried, and cast his magic at her. The lightning bolts spread out, beating down pieces of stone and kicking up stalagmites. It was to no avail. "Damn, she's using some sort of protection!"

"She's too fast for even my attacks," Chrystie responded in anger.

Dyn raised his sword above him and unleashed its divine power. "Speed matters not with a sword of my caliber!" he declared. "Unknowing sword, cut down the formless flesh!" When Dyn attacked, the demoness did indeed recoil in fear. Her voice shrieked as the blade impacted her immaterial form.

Celia tripped and fell on her back. She looked up at Kashell, who raised his sword over his head. "Kashell," she said, her voice shaking. She held her sword. She could thrust it into him--save herself. Perhaps he would live, and perhaps he would continue to attack her if he was only wounded. She cared not to try it. Instead, she closed her eyes. "Kashell, she is right..." The blade came crashing down. Celia winced, fearing the final blow.

It never came. She opened her eyes again, and there was Alicia standing in front of her, holding her father's sword up against Kashell's blade. Her muscles were tensed to the point that her entire body shook as she blocked Kashell's attack and held him back. "Alicia, you fool!" she cried. "Get out of his way!"

"Don't just stand there!" Alicia groaned. "Help...me...!"

Celia stood and pressed her blade along with Alicia's against the massive sword that Kashell wielded. together, they managed to throw him off.

"Sorry about this, buddy," Aeila said under stress, as she lifted a large chunk of stone. She brought it down over Kashell's head, knocking him out. The long-haired swordsman passed out face-first on the floor of the cavern. "Ha! Actually, I'm not that sorry."

Celia threw herself over Kashell's body. "Aeila, you could kill him!" she shouted.

"Nah," Aeila reassured her. "He's just taking a little nap."

"Watch him," Alicia said to Celia. "I'll heal him as soon as our enemy has been defeated!"

"Good plan, girl!" Aeila agreed. The two of them ran to join the fight already in progress between the Einherjar and the undead mistress.

Celia hung her head as the two went. "Once again, I am useless," she said to the unhearing body of Kashell. "You must forgive me."

(7)

Hrist reached the chamber and stepped inside. At her feet near the entrance laid a heavy warrior, either unconscious or dead, cradled in the arms of a female swordsman. Looking upon their faces, she stepped back and froze in sudden realzation. She felt the spirit of Lemia dissolve without warning, and knew why. This person was Celia.

_I'm sorry Valkyrie_, she apologized. _After what I have done, I cannot face my friends. I caused them too much agony._

"I understand," Hrist replied. Lemia could not know how much she understood.

Celia looked up, just as shocked, as these words came from Hrist's mouth. She stared wide-eyed at the Valkyrie, still clutching her friend's body. "Who... are you?"

Hrist remembered then that she was not the same at all, at least not in appearance. Celia would not recognize her. To see her old comrade in this new form was difficult. The chooser of the slain diminished within her, and her heart was filled with compassion and sympathy. "Your friend..."

"He..." Celia began breathlessly. Then she grasped Kashell tightly and pressed her eyes shut. "He isn't dead!" she cried. "Don't take him from me, please! I beg of you!"

"Worry not," Hrist replied. She could not stand to see the young woman fear her so. "I shall not take your beloved from you while he yet breathes. This I swear."

"Lady Valkyrie!" Llewelyn shouted, and pointed at the magic field at the center of the room, upon which several more warriors fought. "Look!"

Hrist did. There were three women there and two men. One girl was Aeila whom Leone had known. One was an Einherjar, as were the two men by her side. Their souls sung vibrantly with the resonant force of their power. The last was someone who Hrist did not recognize. She was a young woman, perhaps not even twenty. Though she appeared to be but a simple mortal, Hrist knew at the very sight of her that this was the light which her soul sought.

(8)

"You wretched girls!" the evil spirit Genevieve cried as the remaining fighters prepared their attacks. Alicia shuddered at the sound, but held her sword firmly. "An admission of love almost made, and you've ruined it!"

The freakishly black and contorted lady of the undead dropped all interest in her Einherjar foes, and reached out with both hands to strike at Alicia and Aeila. Her arms became horrible talons.

"Watch out!" Chrystie shouted. "If she touches you, you'll be frozen!"

Alicia swung her sword at the demon, but her blade passed harmlessly through, as did Aeila's spear. She gasped as she saw the hand reaching out for her--no time for her to react, and too late for any of her friends to help her. She had but one thought. _Looks like I'll be joining you, Fortuna..._

There was a blinding flash of white light and a loud clang of metal. She heard Aeila and the others gasp. When she opened her eyes once more, there was a new person crouched on the ground in front of her, a great halberd thrust outward. It was a woman clad in dark armor which reflected the sickly green light. Her helmet was adorned with pure black raven's feathers. Alicia knew that this beautiful and strong woman could be no less than a Goddess.

"Hrist Valkyrie!" Chrystie shouted in anger and surprise. She aimed her bow at the newcomer. Seluvia and Dyn did the same with their own weapons. "Alicia, you must get away from her!"

Yet their true enemy still lived... in a manner of speaking. Alicia was not sure if you could call that alive. The horrible voice tittered in amusement. "So, you show yourself at last, Valkyrie!" she laughed. "It has been quite some time."

"Excuse me if I fail to recognize any of you," Hrist said in her smooth, deep voice, as she rose to stand. Alicia was in awe of her presence. "Why do you Einherjar turn your weapons upon me?" she asked. "Why do you walk the earth when Valhalla draws near? Know your duty and follow me."

"Lap dog of Odin!" Chrystie shouted. "Who are you to lecture us on one's duty?"

(9)

"Odin?" Hrist answered, confused. Was Odin not long dead? This was an unwanted distraction from her mission, and she paid it no mind. Her own Einherjar should be able to deal with these rogues if she summoned all at once, but she wished not to do so while humans stood about. The ensuing battle may destroy them all.

"Have you had a hand in your sister's demise, monster?" the mage Einherjar asked in a threatening voice.

"Do you mean Lenneth?" Hrist replied. This was most frustrating. "You fools are mistaken!"

The cave shook once more with a deafening laugh. "How amusing, how extremely amusing!" the demon lady laughed as she phased away once more.

"Alicia!" Aeila shouted. "Behind you!"

Hrist turned, as did the rest, to see the dark figure reappear just behind the girl. The pale white hands grabbed her neck and held her tight. "Oh, what innocent love this heart has known," she crooned , as her magic began to slowly work its way into her victim's skin. "What tragedy! Look upon her, Hrist Valkyrie! This heart which once belonged to you shall now be mine!"

Hrist watched as the girl choked. The hands about her throat began to merge with her skin. The figure formed from shadow attached itself to her back. Aeila and the others stood in horror holding their weapons, unsure whether to attack and risk harming Alicia.

As Hrist watched, she felt a horrible stabbing pain deep in her heart. The light was slowly being extinguished. In image from her past became clear in her mind--this haunting figure, one that she had fought before. She was the agent of Queen Hel, enemy to gods and mortals alike. Hrist held her great spear at the ready. "Release her, Genevieve!"

"And so now you remember my name," the demoness crooned. "It is too late! I will assimilate her pure soul, and the knowledge of her former lives which sleep within her! I shall be young and as beautiful as the Valkyries!"

The girl who looked so very familiar and emitted such a radiant song from her heart weakened, but forced her mouth open. Her words were hushed. "I will... save... Fortuna," she said. With her last ounce of strength, she raised her own father's sword, its hilt held downwards. She pointed it at her own chest.

"Alicia!" Aeila screamed. "Stop!"

Hrist said nothing, but ever fiber of her being screamed for this to stop.

The blade pushed through the body of its owner, and straight through to the specter which clung to her. Genevieve screamed in agony as her new body was mortally pierced. The lights flared and flashed brilliantly with the waning of her voice. Alicia fell from the formless flesh, lifeless against the ground. The entire cavern began to shake.

Hrist looked down at the young woman who laid dead at her feet. The light faded entirely, leaving only the overwhelming abysmal darkness. This place was cursed, just as the Weeping Lily Meadow had been.

"Celia!" Aiela shouted. Hrist's eyes rose to see that the young draconic warrior was trying to lift the unconscious Kashell onto her shoulders to no avail. "I need your help! This entire place is coming down!"

"But..." Celia replied, still sitting on her knees. She stared ahead blankly, shaking from more than the disruption in the earth. "No..."

Aeila grabbed Celia and pulled her to her feet shaking her. "Do not let her sacrifice be in vain, you fool!" she shouted, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "We must save Kashell, do you understand?"

Celia snapped out of it. She helped her friend to lift the unconscious figure of their comrade, and they began to leave. Hrist knew that together they would escape safely. It was no matter, though it was strange to watch them depart. Their lives were no longer a part of her own. Part of her, a large part, wanted to transform into Leone and run after them. She wanted to tell them that their friends still existed, and were still watching over them. She wanted to tell them that there would be a place for each of them in her heart when they too passed on, that this life was not the end. Instead, she watched them leave.

Hrist knelt at the body of the dead girl who had sacrificed her life so bravely, oblivious to the stalactites falling and crashing all around her. She lifted the delicate figure into her arms carefully. The three Einherjar who had up until now been so aggressive gathered around in silent reverence.

(10)

_Hrist/Leone sees a young woman with golden blonde locks that hang in a somewhat unkempt fashion around her shoulders. She wears a fighter's clothing and carries both a bow and a sword. Her eyes are hauntingly familiar, they are a very bright blue. Hrist feels like she is looking in a mirror, though this woman resembles her very little. Then, like someone who is able to understand that they are dreaming without waking up, she realizes that she is seeing this woman through the eyes of the girl crumpled at her feet, and that this woman looks just like **her**. They are souls branching from the same point. Delving into this deep connection between the two makes Hrist feel like she is diving into something endless, like two mirrors facing each other._

_The feeling that overwhelms her is adoration and love. Leone has never had a sibling, she is always alone. Hrist's memories seeping in around the edges of her mind contain something of sisters, but even those feelings are nothing in comparison to the amount of love that this girl feels for her older sister, the golden-haired woman._

"_Alicia!" the woman cries. "Stay behind me!" The name strikes a chord. Yes, Hrist knew that name, but that person--If Leone could just remember more about her--has been dead for hundreds of years. There is some sadness attached to this name, a feeling of regret and emptiness._

Don't make me kill **Alicia**.

_Hrist had said that, though the context escapes her now. It is obvious that Hrist must have cared about this person; enough to respect her human life. That is quite a leap for the Goddess of Death who seems to believe that humans are better off released from their prisons of flesh. Who is this girl? Why does her spirit emit such powerful light? _

"_Fortuna!" she shouts. Leone's confusion is knocked aside by intense urgency and helplessness as the girl is thrown into darkness and locked away. She seems to spend eternity in that darkness, shouting and banging at the walls. __"Don't leave me! Don't go without me! Fortuna!"_

_Overwhelmed by the surge of emotion, Hrist almost overlooks something of great importance--something which is important to her sister, Lenneth the Creator. _

_Alicia spoke to a blonde-haired man. His name was Lucian, and he was searching for a silver-haired girl..._

(11)

Hrist came out of her unifying trance dizzy and reeling. After recovering from this strange feeling, she rose and lifted her hand. The three rogue Einherjar watched silently. "Rise, Alicia!" she commanded the body lying the body flat against the ground.

The warmth that filled Hrist as Alicia joined her spirit was more inviting than any before. She understood that somehow this person, this beautiful girl, filled a small part of that wretched emptiness that she has felt for her entire life.

The new girl's new ghostly figure appeared above the material dead one, looking about sheepishly in alarm. "You," Alicia said, looking up at Hrist in awe once again. "You are Lady Valkyrie. There's a statue of you at the shrine!"

"I am she," Hrist replied, trying to unravel the mystery behind her strong feelings. Surely Alicia did not notice it, though that may be understandable given her current situation.

"But... but I can't die!" she shouted, clenching her fists. "I just can't!"

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Hrist replied, "But you just _have_."

Alicia looked down at her own body lying lifelessly on the ground. "Oh," she groaned. "So I have..." Then she looked up to the three Einherjar who accompanied Hrist. "But you three can still see me, of course!" She smiled brightly despite her situation. "The spell was lifted, right? Kallstad is saved, isn't it?"

"I hope so," Chrystie said, faking her joy. Seluvia and Dyn looked away.

"Is something wrong?" Alicia asked innocently. They could not reply.

"Let us return to the surface," Hrist insisted. She wished that she could confirm Alicia's wish, but if the feeling of permeating evil was any indication, then this place was not yet entirely purified. "Come, Alicia. Shall you be my Einherjar?"

"Yes," Alicia replied. "To help others in need, I suppose that I will."

(12)

When Hrist absorbed Alicia's spirit, there was a spark like nothing she had yet experienced. To say that it was a spark what the only way to describe it. The memories dormant in her mind all glittered for a single moment as if reflecting light, and then grew dark. Hrist was content with that. Memories could be troublesome.

She and the team of Einherjar which hesitantly followed her escaped from the quarry behind the others. Their paths did not cross that of Celia, Kashell, and Aeila; though Hrist assumed that their lot would survive with little trouble. The cave underneath the quarry collapsed, burying Alicia's human body much in the same fashion that Leone's had been buried. If the citizens of Kallstad had been cured, then surely they heard the cave-in from their homes.

When they reached the top of the dusty cliffs which surrounded the quarry, the sun was rising over the mountains. Hrist turned to the Einherjar who followed her.

"Tell me your grievances, warriors," she said. "I wish to know the source of your anger."

"We no longer hold anger towards you," Chrystie replied.

Hrist thought that their expressions were still similar to those that she saw on the faces of Rufus's Einherjar at the dinner table during her coronation. It was mistrust, little more than a tolerance for her presence. "What have I done in my former life?" she asked.

"If you must know," Chrystie asked, "You killed several members of my family, the royal line of Dipan. You destroyed my kingdom to punish us for defying the gods."

Hrist listened to this openly. Her expression did not change. Though she could not remember it, she believed every word. It was quite possible, she realized, that the very reason that she could not remember was because Hrist did not _want_ to remember. She did not want to feel the unbearable guilt for what she had done.

"Whatever," Chrystie sighed. "I suppose like all of those who were reborn, you hold no memory of that time. I cannot hold a grudge towards you for that."

"I suppose that you shall not return to Valhalla," Hrist replied. "Why?"

"Our mothers are in Valhalla as is," Seluvia said. "You know of Phyress and Sylphide, don't you?" Hrist's surprised expression answered positively to that. "The three of us remain on Midgard to preserve peace. The seal that we formed long ago has begun to weaken. Genevieve was only one of the many powerful undead that plan to wreck havoc on Midgard."

"Rufus's law prevents his own intervention," Chrystie added. "And so... we take care of it for him."

Hrist understood. These Einherjar were as loyal as any. "Good luck in your task, then," she said. "I shall roam this world disposing of the undead myself, so our paths shall likely cross again."

"Hopefully we can meet on better terms when that happens," Chrystie said. "Well then... you'd best be seeing to that town. As for us, we'll be leaving now."

Hrist nodded. "Very well then."

(13)

As the sun rose over the mountains, Celia sat upon the path back to Kallstad waiting for Kashell to awaken. She feared that Aeila had given him permanent damage. The red-haired woman was off making a marker for Alicia over what remained of the quarry. Celia did not want to think of any more deaths. Leone, Lemia, and in a way, Grey as well. Now Alicia, an innocent girl who had so recently joined their band. She had held such promise. She had been so brave and determined. Celia had used Kashell as an excuse not to join Aeila. She _was_ using him.

The slight flinching of Kashell's body followed by a painful groan brought her back from her thoughts. She smiled sympathetically. "Good morning," she said, waving her hand in front of his face. "How many fingers?"

"Seven," Kashell grunted.

"I'm only holding up one hand," she sighed in dismay. "Just rest a while. Aeila will be back soon."

Kashell obeyed, making no effort to move. He pressed his eyes shut as if the sun's light was only worsening the pain that he was in. He raised his arm to block it from his eyes. "That witch got into my head..."

"It isn't your fault," Celia replied. "If the blame rests with anyone, it's me."

"What?" Kashell exclaimed. "How?"

"She was using you to get to me," Celia replied. "She was a demon who fed on certain emotions. My feelings were fueling her power. It's my fault for being weak."

"Hey, don't be like that," Kashell replied. "No harm done. We're friends, right? The friendship that we have means a lot to me, Celia. I wouldn't want to compromise it for anything in the world."

"Yes," Celia sighed. She wished that she could sound happier about it, at least for him, but it was useless. "The two of us... are friends."

"Where is Alicia?" he asked, grinning at the thought of the cute girl. "I bet she's psyched that we won, huh? Is her family okay now?"

"She's dead," Celia replied.

Kashell's arm dropped to his side. He opened his eyes again. "Gods..." he uttered, unable to articulate an appropriate curse. "Ye Gods..."

Celia closed her eyes and lowered her head. Surely the Valkyrie she had seen had taken Alicia with her, as well as the three mysterious warriors who claimed to be Einherjar.

(14)

By the evening, Kashell had recovered and the three mercenaries returned to the town of Kallstad. The sun was as hot as it had ever been, and the air was dry. Though the journey had been downhill, by the time they returned to Kallstad, they were ready to find a place in the shade--preferably in the midst their heroes' welcome.

As they approached the outskirts of the town, they noticed a distinct lack of activity. With denial fueling the hope in their hearts, they quickly found Alicia's home, praying to find her father awake. They would explain to them how his brave daughter had died to save their town.

He still stood in his home, hand held upwards where he once gripped the very sword Alicia had sacrificed herself with. At the sight of his frozen body, Celia dropped to her knees.

"No," she cried. "Why hasn't the curse been lifted? Why?"

Aeila cringed. Her attempt to suppress her anger failed, and she punched her fist into the adobe wall of Alicia's home hard enough to crack the surface. "Damn," she muttered, then shouted, "Damn it!"

Kashell pressed his eyes shut in respect for those lost. "Maybe they're really dead," he said. "Maybe they are just frozen corpses."

Celia stood up slowly. "Alicia's death was for nothing..."

"That isn't true," Kashell replied and reached to hold her steady by the shoulders. "She did destroy that demon before it could harm anyone else."

"You're right," Celia answered, and forced herself to straighten up. She pushed away from his grip. "Let's make our rest as brief as possible," she said. "I want us to be out of the town by nightfall."

Kashell sighed. "I don't blame you."

(15)

Hrist stood at the top of the shrine which was built upon the hill at the center of Kallstad. Without the people fighting their endless war with the sand, the desert had already begun to reclaim its territory. Windswept sand had already dirtied the roads as well as every door frame and window sill. She wondered if in a year, the entire town along with its residents would be buried.

Though she wished that she could avoid it, she summoned Alicia forth. The girl surveyed her surroundings in her innocent hopefulness, then Hrist watched it shatter.

"I don't understand," Alicia said in a broken voice. "We destroyed the demon... why wasn't the curse lifted?"

"I cannot answer that," Hrist replied. "Powerful magics are at work here... the sort that even a powerful undead lord should not have the ability to use. Something is wrong in Midgard."

"What?" Alicia stood and turned to Hrist. "We pray endlessly to the gods for their blessings, and we are thankful for that which we recieve-- but this punishment? What have we done to deserve such a thing?"

"There are gods both good and ill-natured, just as there are men." Hrist felt unsatisfied that this was the only answer that she could offer. "Odin no longer stands in Valhalla. The gods have since been forbidden to interfere in the workings of Midgard. Your blessings and curses are nothing but natural coincidences,although Midgard has grown more prosperous for it. This curse is in defiance of divine law." She considered her feelings on referring to Rufus's decisions as divine law. That seemed incredibly odd, but it was the truth as it stood. "For that reason, I am permitted to purify the source. However, with that done, the ailment has not been lifted."

Alicia looked up hopelessly, tears brimming in her large blue eyes. "What can I do? I must save them..."

Hrist glanced once more over the decimated town. "There are things that I can do for you still, and things that I need from you as well."

"What must I do?" Alicia asked. "I'll do anything."

"When I materialized your spirit, I felt two strong resonating spirits whom you have interacted with recently. One is so powerful that I can barely sense the other, so I must ask for your assitance. Though your older sister has a strong spirit much like those friends of yours, I do not need her at the moment. The person I am most interested in is a young man. I believe that his name is Lucian."

"Lucian?" Alicia repeated. The sudden recollection of that event was so jarring that it stopped her tears. "I met a young man named Lucian the other day."

"Was he in the town when the people were frozen?"

"No," Alicia said after a moment's thought. "Thank goodness. I think he was several days out of town before the monsters attacked, which means he may be safe."

Hrist marveled at the coincidence, and then reminded herself that whether or not she could consciously control such a thing, she was in fact a goddess of fate. "Do you have any idea where he might have gone?"

"He didn't say... But I suppose he headed to Crell Monterfrienge..."

"Thank you, Alicia," Hrist said, and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "I am truly sorry. I do not know if there is any hope, but I will help you appeal to the gods in return for your service as Einherjar."

"Would you?" Alicia gasped. "You are so very kind, Lady Valkyrie."

Hrist was startled by that description. As a Valkyrie, she had been described as powerful and beautiful, but never as kind. As Leone, she had been called wise and strong, but never kind.

"It isn't so bad anyway," she went on in a timid tone. "Everyone is so lively inside, I feel... warm."

"As do I," Hrist replied. "Now, rest and let your soul be at ease. I shall call for you when you are needed."

Alicia returned to Hrist's body, where she was consoled without words by her fellow Einherjar. She began to know each of them, and was glad for their presence. Hrist was glad to have her even more. Her presence seemed to hold some uniting force that made each of her Einherjar stronger.

Hrist took to the sky and set out for the west.


	8. The Sylvan Bow

**Chapter 9: The Sylvan Bow**

(1)

_Hrist, answer._

Two simple words that Hrist heard in the back of her mind. She promptly slowed down and descended from the sky. Although new voices in her head were beginning to become everyday occurrences, this one was remarkably odd. It was not the voice of her Einherjar.

_Did you hear something?_ came the voice of Belanus.

_I didn't hear anything_, Janus replied.

When Hrist gave no response, Llewelen voiced concern as well. _Val... Valkyrie?_

_"_"Silence," Hrist said patiently. "It is not from within."

_Hrist, can you not hear my voice?_

Hrist set her feet down in a clearing of the forest below. She was only half way to Crell Monterfrienge, and not at all happy about this distraction. As the voice grew louder, her annoyance gave way to recognition. It belonged to Lady Freya.

_Hrist?_

"Yes!" she responded quickly. "Lady Freya?"

_I am going to initiate Sacred Phase, do not be alarmed._

"Sacred Phase?" Hrist replied, just as some unnatural sensation swept her up.

She found herself on an otherworldly plane, faced by the goddess herself. Around her it was dark except for when she looked directly at Freya whose radiance was uncanny. What was more unsettling than this in itself was the fact that her Einherjar seemed absent. They had not gone, but she knew that they could not hear her at the moment.

"Greetings, Hrist," Freya said warmly.

Hrist kneeled as she thought proper to do before Freya, who (unlike Rufus) appeared to care for formality. "My Lady," she answered.

"Rise," Freya replied, "there is no need for that here. I simply wish to check your progress." Hrist stood and waited for the goddess to continue. "I am using the water mirror to speak to you."

"I see," Hrist answered. "I am honored that you would speak to me personally, through that magical contraption though it may be. I have news to report. I should speak to Lord Rufus as well, if possible."

"Lord Rufus is preoccupied with the war effort," Freya replied. "The first encounters are expected to begin any day now."

Hrist thought it odd that Freya should have time to speak to her when Rufus did not. Surely she wasn't allowing him to reign free over the battle plans, was she? As much as she admired the young lord's spirit, Freya was obviously more capable. "Will you be needing my Einherjar shortly, then?" The idea of parting with them still struck her as a terrible thing, but she knew that this was the inevitable result of their training.

"No," Freya answered. "Weak and untrained Einherjar will only serve to undermine our victory. Keep them until they are truly ready, both in body and spirit."

"I will," Hrist said. She hoped that then, maybe then, it would hurt less to let them go.

"There is, however, something I must have you do for me, for the war effort," Freya continued. "The forces of the underworld have in their ranks a demon known as Bloodbane. In its belly is the Demon Sword Levantine, one of the four treasures. I am quite certain that Queen Hel will take the opportunity to make a stab at the gods while Asgard is being attacked by the Vanir."

"Don't the four treasures sustain each of the worlds they are native to?" Hrist asked her. "Would they take the weapon to Asgard knowing that their own world would be put in danger?"

"If one of the four treasures is taken from its part of the World Tree, that world will slowly diminish... but only after a period of time. They could easily carry it into battle at no risk of their own. That is why I have prepared to aquire a treasure for us to use."

"Gungnir is in the hands of Lord Rufus, is it not?" Hrist asked her, hoping that she was not being impertinent. "And is it not the most powerful of the four treasures?"

"Yes," Freya replied. "But to send Lord Rufus to battle against Bloodbane..." Hrist noticed her head turn slightly to the side as she broke eye contact. She could not help but wonder what would stir the unchanging heart of a goddess so. As soon as this hint of sympathy appeared, it was gone again. Freya looked back firmly to Hrist. "I will not allow it."

"You fear for Lord Rufus's safety?"

"Not at all," Freya said, though Hrist still wondered. "He, as the holder of Gungnir, is the stabilizing for of Asgard itself," she went on. "If he were tangled in a battle, even if he should win, it would be traumatizing to our forces."

It would make for quite the morale booster, Hrist thought without voicing her opinion. To see their king victorious on the battle field would be an invigorating experience, especially with someone so common and well-liked as Rufus reigning over them. But, could she honestly see Rufus striking with the great spear? Not with any success. Though she had never seen the spear in person (not on any occasion she remembered, anyway), she imagined that it may weigh more than the light-footed half-elf did himself.

"We must aquire the sylvan Bow," Freya demanded. "Its power would quell the force of Bloodbane."

"Ah, I see," Hrist responded, enamored with the idea. "If Lord Rufus should wield a weapon so suited to him, surely his force on the battlefield would be unmatched."

"It shan't be given to Lord Rufus," Freya corrected her in an icy tone. Hrist's agreeable expression became suspicious in return. "Tell me, Hrist, have you acquired any of your memory?"

"Just bits and pieces," Hrist replied. "Though... an Einherjar told me a story... she said that I once crushed the kingdom of Dipan. Is this the truth?"

"Dipan was an insolent country whose mages attempted to destroy your very soul, Hrist," Freya answered coldly. "Pay no mind to that tale."

"They attempted this before... or after I destroyed their homes?"

Freya's face suddenly became as unfriendly as ever. This was the expression which was given to most of the Einherjar, and the humans of Midgard. She sneered this way upon Rufus when he acted arbitrary to her commands. Hrist knew what it was. Freya loved Hrist, but she hated Leone. Until Leone belonged to the past, Hrist was to be mistrusted. "Just retrieve the Sylvan Bow and return it to me by way of the bridge Bifrost," she went on. "If you lose your way, any elf should be able to lead you."

"Will they take so well to the idea of their treasure being taken?" Hrist replied.

"I only intend to use it until the battle is won," she replied. "There is no other way. With two gods upon the battle field wielding two treasures, the enemy will fall quickly and the bow can be returned. This is to the elves' advantage, and they owe it to us for protecting their land during Ragnarok."

"If this is your command," Hrist answered, "I will trust in your divine judgment."

"Thank you for serving me so loyally," Freya returned, her expression becoming kind once more. "I expect mighty deeds."

"There is one issue," Hrist went on. "I may have a lead as to Lenneth's location. There is a human who knew of her human host... she may yet live. I must find her quickly."

"This takes top priority," Freya commanded. "Do not concern yourself with a mere human host. You are our Valkyrie, and two are not meant to walk Midgard at once."

Hrist felt a pang of some wicked emotion in her heart. It was a mixture of insult and regret and some other thing that Hrist could not name. Defeat, maybe. Her sisters did matter, whoever and wherever they were. She _needed_ to find them."Then why am I searching for her?" she asked calmly, despite this sudden twist of feelings.

"Because her power could fall into the wrong hands," she replied. "The agents of Hel are about."

"Very well then," Hrist said. "I will fly promptly to the Forest of Spirits."

Freya raised an eyebrow to that, either curious or suspicious. "Hrist, you are able to teleport through photonic energy, did you not know?"

"I did not," Hrist answered. "Rufus only instructed me to fly."

"_Lord_ Rufus has no idea what he is _doing_," Freya sighed in frustration. "Just think of shooting yourself as you would a photon. It's a much faster way to travel." She prepared to do the same herself by floating into the air over the corporeal field that they stood in. "Good luck, and I hope to see you in person soon."

"Thank you, Lady Freya."

With that, Hrist was released back into the mortal realm of forests, mountains, oceans, and the like. She took a moment to shake it off, adjusting her eyes to the light.

_Where did you go?_ Alicia asked frantically. _You just... went away._

"I am sorry," Hrist answered. "Freya wanted to see me. We have a new mission. We go to the Forest of Spirits."

_Isn't that where elves live?_ Llewelyn asked curiously.

_Yes, and where humans are killed on sight, to my understanding,_ Belenus added.

"You aren't human anymore," Hrist said with a finality in her voice that they did not dare to question. "Neither am I."

_You were human?_ Alicia asked her in a meek tone. _Is that possible?_

"To be more correct," Hrist responded sadly, "I suppose I merely lived as a human... I never was one."

Alicia and the rest of the Einherjar were silent in response to this. Finally, Alicia spoke up once more. _What about Lucian?_ she asked. _Didn't you want to find him for some important reason?_

"Not so important as my service to Asgard," Hrist replied. "Now please remain quiet. I must concentrate."

Hrist wasn't entirely sure of what she was doing. Leone was entirely sure that she did not know what she was doing. Transmit your body by way of the light of Yggdrasil. It didn't seem like something that should be impossible. Her body was an illusion after all. The real one had been crushed under rubble and its remaining bits buried in the royal court where the king would be sure to visit each day. Or would have been, if he hadn't been assassinated by one of her own Einherjar. It was almost humorous when she thought about it--almost enough to forget that what she was about to do was so much different from simply flying. The process of flying had come naturally, this did not.

_Project photons_, Hrist thought. _Project yourself._

She shot a few of the beads of light to no avail. They stuck to a tree nearby and then crackled apart with a tinkle as Hrist stood trying to summon whatever it was that she needed to do this.

When it finally worked, it worked extremely well--at least, as far as she could tell. Suddenly her body was gone, and everything was bright. She felt each of her Einherjar reel from the shock. Despite the fact that none of them had physical bodies, it felt as if each of their stomachs had turned from a sharp drop, and they were all inside of her. They remained strong enough to obey her wish and remained silent.

Hrist could hardly hear them anyway. The power of Ygdrassil was too great. She was suddenly a small spec in a great void, though she was much larger than her Einherjar, who were all but invisible in comparison. Gods traveled this way normally? Did Freya feel this way each time she flickered so casually? She had much to learn about being a goddess, it appeared.

Quickly she decided that this means of travel brought on too horrible a sensation to keep it up for long, and stopped before going anywhere. She reappeared in the forest kneeling, panting for breath. For a moment she had feared never being whole again (if you were to call this whole).

"Are you all still here?" she asked desperately, clutching her hand to her chest.

_Yes, yes!_ Alicia replied the loudest, while the others gave affirmations in their own ways. _What happened? What was that about?_

"I felt... as if I had come undone," Hrist replied, still breathing in labored huffs.

_Undone?_

Hrist caught her breath and stood, trying to calm both her heart and her Einherjar. She could not allow them to see her show any sign of weakness, or to let them see her feel anything but pride in their works. "Never you mind," she said gruffly. "It was nothing."

_Valkyrie, please tell me what's wrong!_ Alicia demanded. _All at once I felt as if I wasn't myself, or anyone else... it was like... like..._

_Like being between one life and the next_, Belanus explained in his usual poetic and yet accurate manner.

"Do not worry," Hrist told them. "Your Valkyrie is not so weak that her soul would be threatened by such a simple act. All the same, for your sakes... I will refrain. We will simply fly there."

Hrist rose into the air once more, and hoped that her words would put her Einherjar at rest. They said nothing more, either contented or unwilling to raise question.

Soon each had fallen gently back into the hazy sleep that took them while they traveled within her, well protected. As she flew through the cool air towards the south, where the Forest of Spirits laid waiting on a secluded island, she reached out to each of them and gently blanketed them with all the warmth that her warrior's heart could muster.

She heard Alicia's voice, though the girl was already deeply asleep, completely unaware of her own thoughts being transmitted to Hrist.

_Is that you, Silmeria...?_

The name made her shudder, and she feared waking all of them.

The girl had known Silmeria, but had no memory of her. Could that be possible? The other Einherjar of Silmeria's had known her. The girl had been the most compatible Einherjar she had acquired yet. It made sense. She must have been an Einherjar of her sister Silmeria's in a former life--brave Alicia, doomed to fight onwards through time though her heart was so passive.

Though she had always been a warrior, never desiring parts of life such as family, friends, and love... Alicia wanted all of those things, yet would continue to fight. Had Silmeria saved her, and released her to this new life purposefully? Had she reversed that, dooming Alicia once again? Silmeria... Lenneth... were they greater Valkyries than she? Could they satisfy these souls where she could not? She felt so empty.

"Nay," she replied, and reached out with her heart to touch her. In the spectral space inside of her being, she placed her hand over the girl's head. "It is only Hrist."

(2)

Flenceburg was a city lying in the south eastern region of Midgard. It was known for its arts, culture, and most of all, its highly prized school of magic. Though unknown to most of its dwellers, the Forest of Spirits as well as the passageway to Asgard laid in the same region. Closer even still was a tower, a twisted thing of black bricks and dark metals that reached into the sky. It sparkled in the moonlight, but never in the sun. All around it were planted deadly white blossoms, Weeping Lilies. How they got there, no one knew, nor did they care to find out.

A young woman stood on a balcony of the fourth level, watching the moon. It wasn't full, but its light was bright enough to see the fields clearly below. Thanks to those ridiculous flowers, she was a captive here more than an assistant, though that is what she was called. That was the service she performed. A magic circle here, a potion there. All of these were things that her master could do, but cared not to dirty his hands with. Her hands certainly did feel dirty. The elements of his many recipes and the methods through which he obtained them were often morally questionable.

But did she care? Not really. Who cared what happened to an elf or two? Or maybe more like fifty. They were all going to die whether she was here or not, so she may as well try not to die along with them. She hadn't even killed them, really. All she had done was cover her ears with a pillow at night when she heard one of them screaming, and then when the sun rose, artfully neglected to ask where all the elves' blood had come from. It wasn't as if she could stop him.

As she stood in the light of the moon and watched the flowers beneath her glitter, she contemplated going down there. It seemed like a painless way to die. Didn't anyone miss her? Where in the Hel was her heroic prince? Where was the noble warrior in tights and armor, come to climb the tower and save the beautiful princess? She'd give him more than a kiss for his trouble. How long had it been she she had gotten any? At least her master could be that gracious. She was willing to pretend she didn't like it, if he needed to keep up his whole creepy villain persona. Of course, she probably wouldn't like it anyway. She had never seen his face, and there must be a reason why he always hid himself. He was probably hideous.

That little _freak_.

(3)

_Mystina_, an electronic voice bellowed. The young woman put away the vial she was working at, its contents already a bloody mess in more ways than one. Not only did it contain actual blood, it was completely botched.

She wiped her hands off and went over to the intercom that the madman had set up in order to avoid interacting with her in any way. Honestly. He must not be interested in women, she thought. She might have a little meat on her bones, but she knew that men really preferred it that way when it was in the right places, and hers most definitely was.

"What do you want?" she barked, holding the button down on the machine. How much of it was magic and how much was science, she still didn't know.

_I have something to discuss with you. If you would report to the bottom floor, please._

"What the Hel for?" she griped back.

_I'm thinking about letting you go._

Mystina took her finger off the button.

Freedom.

She turned slowly back to the concoction she had been working on. There it was, botched before she could figure out the secret of its composition. It hit her then that she really wanted to know. She wanted to know what was above that fifth floor, and just exactly what all of this freaky crap was for.

She had never really been a prisoner. The flowers around the tower may as well have been daisies. She had seen more quite a few Ogres and more than one elf meet their end while stupidly trying to escape and was no fool, but she had never entertained thoughts of trying.

She could have escaped. She could have died trying to escape. She could have died trying to save those people she heard shouting at night. She could have tried. But she did nothing, and there was only one reason why.

She just didn't give a damn.

No, she didn't care about their lives or their pain. This life was futile anyway. She had learned through her studies that mortal souls are rather indestructible. When struck down, they simply blossom again in another form. Their memories would be gathered into an unconscious collective, an incredible accumulation of all knowledge. This reservoir of information possessed but one avatar in the physical realm--the Philosopher's Stone.

Death was rather unimportant when you discovered that there was a back up of your mortal experiences in some over-glorified rock. So you're reincarnated--big deal. You still exist. You are never really _dead_. You're just not living the same life any more. Maybe she had been stuck in this tower for far too long, but death wasn't looking like such a bad option for any of them who ended up in this place.

She may as well go. She may as well see. Otherwise, her mortal existence would be worth nothing at all. What would be recorded in the stone upon her death if she discovered nothing?

(3)

On the ground level of the tower, Mystina could see the flowers stretching on in the distance for miles through the windows of the front entrance. Though the doors were unlocked, to step past them was certain death. Mystina was still on the fence about whether or not she had a death wish.

_Mystina, I want you to know that you've been a very good worker, and your help has been indispensable to me. You should be proud of all of the excellent work you have done._

This time Mystina couldn't see a magic talking box or anything of that nature, she just heard a disembodied voice. "Whatever, you creep," she replied, flipping her luxuriously thick blonde hair over one shoulder. "Don't act like I'm doing it for you. You kidnapped me and trapped me here."

_I'm sure you were missed by many_, he replied with laughable sarcasm.

"Yeah, yeah," Mystina groaned. "And I know, _so_ many rescue missions have been attempted right?"

_Such a beautiful girl, and at the top of her class! I have **no idea** why no one would come to rescue you._

"Can it, you freak!" she shouted. "What do you want anyway?"

_It's time to reward you for all that you have done for me, Misty. _

"Oh, really?" she laughed.

_I'm not such a bad guy once you get to know me. I recognize a useful assistant. I don't allow those who grant me favors to go unthanked. Someday, when I have a universe to my own, you will certainly be invited. Come now friend, what do you say?_

"No thanks!" she shouted. "And who's your friend?'

_Pity, but oh well. I suppose I can compensate you in other ways._

"Money? Sex? I'd accept even booze at this point!" Mystina laughed in a bitter tone.

_Something much greater still,_ he replied. _Information. I shall finally tell you what you have wanted to know. The gate to Bifrost. I know of its location._

"You really are going to let me go?" Mystina responded, unable to believe it. "You would tell me of Bifrost and how to get there?"

_I know it is your dream._

"How? How did you know that?"

_Ah... why, a little birdie told me._

"Start talking!"

_The bridge, as you likely know, lies in The forest of Spirits where elves reside. It lies beyond a gate disguised as a great wall, and once guarded by the spirit Acarcteris. However... several hundred years ago, that spirit was slain. The gate now lies unguarded. The elves have put their protection upon the forest, but there is a simple secret to its navigation._

"And what would that be?"

_Follow the white flowers,_ he said. _Though I suggest that you do not follow the ones outside._

"Great," Mystina spat. "So how the hell am I supposed to get out of here, then?"

_I shall grant you one last favor and transport you to exactly the place where your journey will begin. You've brought your wand, I hope? The forest is full of elves who are not the least bit happy with me, as well as monsters of considerable strength. Past the gate, a cavern connects the forest to Bifrost. Pass through its trials, and you will have your rainbow bridge._

"Let's get it on with then," Mystina replied, hardly expecting anything to happen. "If you're just trying to get one more laugh out of me before finishing me off, I am not falling for it."

The tone that he responded in was freakishly innocent and friendly. _Oh, Misty! I would never! _

Before correcting him on that, Mystina felt a surge of power beneath her feet. Here it was, she thought as runs began to form on the floor underneath her. She would either be blown apart by this creep's magic, or he would keep his word and transport her. Either way, she decided not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her smile.

She closed her eyes as her body began to feel light, as if it had no mass at all. The smell of fresh air greeted her along with the sound of birds chirping and wind flowing through sweeping branches. She opened her eyes to find herself in the sunlight in the midst of a lush forest filled with the most wonderfully green foliage that she had ever seen.

(4)

Hrist arrived in the forest later than Freya had anticipated, but soon enough for her own liking. Upon entrance, she materialized both Alicia and Llewelyn. Both turned about slowly in awe of the amazing greenery before becoming fully alert.

"It smells wonderful!" Llewelyn exclaimed in a high, chipper voice. Both it and his excitement reminded Hrist sadly that he was just a boy.

"I've never seen such a place," Alicia replied. The desert-dwelling girl was overwhelmed. "It's so green... the air, it feels wet!"

"It is humid here," Hrist agreed. "Remain on your guard, please. We will be encountering elves and possibly more as we make our way through."

"Yes!" they answered together, then looked at each other and grinned at the coincidence.

Hrist hid the smile that appeared on her face as she began leading them through the forest.

(5)

This mission did, if nothing else, provide her Einherjar with an excellent training ground. As arrows whizzed about and found their targets, Hrist made note of how confident Llewelyn had grown. It was that confidence he needed to strengthen his spirit. She could see it in the way that his bolts sparked with light as they struck.

"Hey, leave some for me!" Alicia laughed as the young man destroyed her target before she could reach it. He perched up on a hill above the level part of the ground Alicia stood upon, next to the roots of a huge tree. "You're having all the fun!"

"Sorry, I guess I'm getting carried away!" he answered, and strung his bow again. He aimed it at the next monster in line to be destroyed, but before he released his bolt, a rain of arrows fell down upon it, striking it dead. It had been the last in its pack.

Alicia looked up at him confused, seeing his arrow still in his hand. Hrist stepped forward, motioning to protect Alicia with her lance if needed. Llewelyn leapt down to join them. "Elves?" Alicia asked them.

"I am the Lady Valkyrie!" Hrist called out loudly without answering Alicia's question. "If you be elves, then show yourselves! The gods have need of you!"

A woman leapt down from a tree branch overhead where no one had noticed her until now. Her hair was pulled into along braid behind her, and though lithe, her body was not very feminine. She scowled at them in distaste. "Must you soil our lands with humans, Valkyrie?" she hissed.

"These are my Einherjar," Hrist replied. "If you would have me, then you must have them, for they are my own!"

The elf's face lightened a bit, though it was still a scowl. "Then they shall be allowed," she answered. Three more women jumped down to the ground level from the branches overhead, still holding their weapons although not pointed at Hrist and her Einherjar.

"We know why you have come," said another. This one was beautiful, but immensely tall. Alicia felt she may have to take a step back in order to look up at her. "You seek the bow at the gods behest, do you not?"

"Yes," Hrist replied. "Would you lend it to me freely?"

"Only if you promise on your honor as a goddess," the first elf answered. "Swear that you shall return the bow before the land of Alfheim perishes. The gods have been known to take such treasures for themselves in the past."

"Oh my honor," Hrist replied, wearing a sly smile. "And speaking of honor, would none of you fight in Ragnorok? Would none of you aid the king who is descended of your own?"

"Matters of the gods are not our concern," she replied. "When the end comes... it comes."

"How right you are," Hrist answered, swinging about with one hand placed on her hip, her lance held in a downward position with the other. She looked at each of the elves present in turn. "If that's how you feel, why should I bother returning the bow? We'll all die in Ragnorok together, won't it be fine?"

"Please don't take offense... we understand," said another young elf, this one short-haired and more sympathetic than the others. She kneeled before the goddess. "Please... Tell the King of Asgard that though we will not fight on his fields, we will block the Vanir's advance to the best of our ability."

The first elf gave a _harumph_ to this and turned snidely on her heels before walking away from the others. The remaining three brought forth a large, slender item wrapped in red velvet. They passed it with great care to the kneeling elf, who presented it respectfully to Hrist.

"The sylvan Bow," she said. "I present it to you, Hrist Valkyrie."

Alicia and Llewelyn who stood by admiring the elves strange ethereal beauty all the while looked at each other at the sound of this name. The Valkyrie they served was called Hrist.

"On behalf of my King, I shall accept it," Hrist replied, and took the bow in her hands. She was careful to be respectful of it, for surely the elves viewed it as holy. "It shall be returned to you on my pride and honor."

"We bid thee well, Valkyrie," the elf replied as she stood. All three then bowed in a uniform motion. "Follow the path marked by white flowers and you shall reach the gate of Bifrost."

"Thank you for your help." Hrist motioned to her Einherjar to follow. Alicia and Llewelyn gave another glance a the elves before walking out of the clearing.

After that, the elves dispersed, leaving with as much suddenness as they had appeared. Hrist turned to her Einherjar. Alicia was looking up at her, obviously wanting to ask something. "What is it?" she asked the girl.

"What was that about?" she asked in return. "The king of Asgard... he's an elf?"

"Yeah!" Llewelyn replied in an awe-filled voice. "The guy is like... the best shot in the entire world, I'm serious! I bet when we give him this bow, the Vanir will be down before the war even starts. They'll wish they never messed with Asgard." He looked up at Hrist for approval. "Right?"

Hrist walked on without answering him. Llewelyn made little of this and began to tell Alicia all about the king whom he had had the good fortune to meet and so admired. Though Hrist doubted that Rufus's abilities were _that_ amazing, it did feel horribly wrong that this weapon, a gift from his own people, would never be in his hands.

(6)

"_Prismatic Missile!_" The arcs of brilliant light swept through the branches as Mystina narrowly avoided having her head taken clear off by an arrowhead. The blinding lights bent and deflected the arrows aimed at her.

She hurried through the forest, following the trail of lillies--too similar to the ones surrounding her master's tower, she thought. Wasn't she still trapped by him? She was still dancing along to his tune, that much was for sure.

As she passed the bunches of blossoms that bloomed here and there, she felt herself being transported around, ending up in completely different areas of space. Once she even turned around and backtracked the path that she had just traveled, only to find herself in an entirely new place. This was horribly distracting, but at least the elves seemed to have trouble following someone who knew where they were going.

Finally she reached an enormous tree where white flowers bloomed all around. The trunk of it was as big around as a house, and a winding path led up it. She began to climb up, unafraid of what danger she may be placed in.

The top led to another level of the ground. This crazy place was backwards and upside down, but she began to see formations of stone that were not of elvin make at all, but the work of the gods. At least she reached a clearing where the ground depressed, liking having served as a pong at some point. The lingering sensation of a powerful presence was here. That dead guardian the little freak had been babbling about, most likely.

What mattered most to Mystina at that moment though was the fact that there was indeed a stone wall. "The door," she said to herself. Finally she had reached the door.

She could feel its magical power as she approached. It was practically humming with force. Her heart soared in delight as she reached out to touch it. The problem she had not anticipated was that she _could_ touch it.

As her fingers felt the stone, cool though it rested in the warm sunlight, her ecstacy melted, leaving only cold and bitter defeat. She pushed upon it with all of her strength. "Damn!" she cried. "Let me through!"

She beat upon it and when that failed, she cast her best magics; but in the end, nothing worked. She knew what was going on. That lunatic had gotten his last laugh after all. Here she was, so close to the thing she had wished to find for her entire life--possibly in every one of her lives since her soul was formed from the void--and it was beyond her reach. Of course the elves and the gods were not so stupid as to leave this door unprotected. What a fool she had been. She fell to her knees in defeat.

"Stop, human!" an elf shouted, and Mystina thought that was very funny, since it no longer appeared that she was going to any damn place. She didn't even bother to turn.

"Did you really believe that the likes of you could pass through to the bridge?" another laughed.

"Tell us," a third elf said, less severe than the others, but this one's voice shook. "Are you in league with he who stole our sisters and brothers away?"

"Yes," she said, grinning in a mania brought on by the sheer ridiculousness of this all. "Well, I never saw a male, but I don't suppose anyone could tell the difference."

She could actually hear the bowstrings tighten, and then the sound of their release. Bolts pricked her body, first in her leg and then one in the shoulders. How cheeky of them to miss her vital spots like that. She winced in pain and banged her fists upon the wall in her path one last time in agony. "Your aim sucks!" she shouted.

But it didn't the third time.

(7)

"I can't wait to see what Asgard is like," Alicia said, as they walked along. The forest monsters had been much quieter since their interaction with the elves. Alicia wondered if they had scared all of the beasts off.

"I bet they have everything you could ever ask for," Llewelyn replied. "The best food, the best beds..."

Alicia giggled again. "I was thinking more of the land itself, but beds and food are important too!"

"There are flowers," Hrist said softly. "As far as the eye can see." She turned her head slowly as she walked, scanning the area.

"Is something the matter?" Alicia asked. "You seem a little... distracted."

"Hm," Hrist replied. There was nothing more.

Alicia smiled regardless of the Valkyrie's sudden quiet attitude. Finally they were approaching a clearing. It must be the end of the road, she thought.

When they approached the enormous stone wall framed as if it were a gate, she noticed arrows littering the path. "What happened here?" she asked, as Hrist walked forward. The Valkyrie stopped just short of the gate itself. Once it was in plain view, Alicia gasped. There was a young woman lying dead at the foot of it, her body pierced in three places.

Llewelyn took a few careful steps around the dead girl. "Looks like she didn't put up a fight," he said. "There's not even a defensive wound on her, though surely she saw the arrows coming."

"Humans should not enter this place without good reason," Hrist replied. "I know not what her crime was, but surely the elves are vindicated."

Alicia looked away from the corpse. "I don't know..." When she raised her eyes again, Hrist was holding her hand over it, her eyes firmly closed. "What is she--?" she beg to ask Llewelyn, but the boy gave her a signal, a finger to the lips, to remain silent.

(8)

_Hrist is alone. She has no parents. She has no siblings. The only person who Hrist can rely on is herself. She sees no reason why human life is so precious. To kill a mortal is simply to send them back to the cycle of rebirth. What's wrong with reincarnating souls? _

"_You're a murderer all the same!_"

Believe whatever you like.

_Is Hrist thinking this? No... it is the fallen girl. Yet Hrist has known these words, and so this Einherjar's soul speaks to her own. _

_She was a student of magic. Her teacher was a kind-hearted woman who was well-loved at the school. However, she had only coldness and rejection for Mystina. She feared her talent, her potential--at least that is what Hrist feels, though she knows on the surface level of her mind that it was actually her complete lack of morals that the teacher feared. Still... how sad it is that this woman could have saved Mystina, if only she had tried a bit harder. _

_Mystina was taken from her home, and no one went after her. No one cared. _

_As horrible as it was being kept as a pet, that man whose name she was never given was at the least appreciative of her talents. He let her explore them, giving no regard to what human men and women labeled as good and evil. He allowed her to define her existence--a history that would be recorded forever in that all-powerful stone._

_But he made a bad move when he crossed her. Her anger raged. It would be an insult to those who fought for justice to say that justice was what she wanted, but it was definitely something purer than petty revenge. If he was beyond good and evil, then she would surpass it as well. She was going to teach **him** a few things. _

You seek the ephemeral solace of combat. Then you shall have it.

(9)

"Rise, Mystina!" Hrist commanded.

The woman's form materialized, and she appeared very much unsurprised to see herself lying by her feet, dead. "Well, isn't this a surprise?" she said, looking up at the goddess with a smug expression. "I go getting myself killed thinking I'll me reincarnated, and what do you know..."

"Why did you give in?" Hrist asked. "With your magic, you may have survived."

She shrugged. "I just couldn't think of any other way to die that was relatively fast, and I had it coming from the elves anyway," Mystina laughed bitterly. "I've turned a blind eye to many of their screams in the name of my master's research. I'm not sure that you'll want me on your team, Valkyrie."

"On the contrary," Hrist replied, "Killing is the job of every warrior. If I were to discriminate, it would be meager pickings, indeed."

"I see..." Mystina replied, placing her hands on her hips. "So all you really want is my unwavering loyalty to the gods? Ha!"

Hrist's gave remained unchanged. "That is not my desire."

Mystina looked at her quizzically. "What do you want, then? There has to be a catch."

"I simply wish to put off your retirement from this life a bit longer in return for your skill in the art of magic. The idea of redemption is probably not to your taste, though I offer that."

"You don't have to give me anything," Mystina replied. "Please! As if you could bribe me into giving my soul away. I'll come with you because I like your style, that's all." She shrugged. "Maybe your paths and his will cross, and I'll be able to pay him back as well."

Hrist nodded. Though she cared not to voice her uneasiness, something about this seemed to resonate with her own feelings. It was happening again. Here was another Einherjar who seemed all too familiar. Closer and closer, they were resonating with that other universe, the hazy image that existed behind all that was real.

"I'll tell you the real reason why I didn't bother putting up a fight," Mystina continued, now staring with a tired expression to the impassable doorway. "It has always been a dream of mine to see bridge of Bifrost. I worked for my master regardless of whether or not it was right, ignoring the cries of innocent people he had captured for his experiments, all so that he might grant me the information that I needed in order to reach it. Mortality is over-rated, after all." She laughed her bitter and sarcastic chuckle once more. "I mean, I'm sure you don't give a damn about a few dead mortals either way, Valkyrie. Dying is better than being stuck those sacks of flesh and bones that us mortals are forced to walk around in. Really, I thank these elves for setting me free of all that. Being dead is actually quite liberating."

"You're different from me," Alicia said, raising her voice just barely. Hrist gave her her attention and invited her to speak on. "You don't care about family, friends, or your future... I'm sure that falling in love and experiencing things like that in life are totally unimportant to you. But I... Llewelyn, and Lemia and the others too... we wanted to experience those things." Her meek expression turned to a fierce one. Hrist was amazed at how the girl's posture firmed up and her resolve was suddenly unbending. "It isn't for you to decide the fate of others," she said. "Die if you want, but do not justify your actions by saying that life isn't worth it."

Llewelyn took a step forward. "I stand by Alicia," he said. "I'm sure that many have felt grief and loss due to your actions. However... I don't blame the one who killed me, as I was trying to kill him all the same. I don't have any ill will towards you, Miss Mystina."

"I don't care if you do or not," Mystina replied. She ignored Llewelyn altogether, but glanced to Alicia with a mocking grin. "I suppose it does suck to die a virgin, but you're not missing anything great, trust me." To this, Alicia turned bright red and failed to form a response. Mystina went on, enjoying herself far too much. "I'd help you out with that, but I'm not into women. Oh, and little boys don't turn me on either." She flashed a sarcastic grin to Llewelyn.

"N-No thank you!" Alicia stammered. At this point Llewelyn gave up and walked back to stand closer to Hrist, perhaps for his own protection.

"Enough of this prattle," Hrist interrupted. "Henceforth, you shall be fighting side by side, so you'd best grow accustomed to it."

"I'm just trying to have a little fun," Mystina said with a shrug. "I guess I shouldn't expect the dead to take a joke."

Hrist ignored this and walked towards the stone wall that led to the fabled bridge of Bifrost. "Beyond this door, there is a cave that will serve as your first training ground," she said. "Einherjar, prepare yourselves."

Mystina's aloof attitude was gone immediately, replaced by wide-eyed enthusiasm. "Does this passage really lead to Bifrost?" she asked with a hint of excitement in her voice.

Hrist nodded. "You asked for no reward, but seeing that I must return to Asgard on errand, I see no reason not to give you a glimpse of your beloved rainbow bridge. Alicia and Llewelyn may as well see it, too."

Mystina broke incredibly far out of character for a moment and clapped her hands together in joy. "Wonderful!" she cried. "What great benefits this job provides!"

"At least I don't have some kind of weird bridge fetish," Alicia grumbled, as Hrist began to lead them through.

"Ha ha!" Mystina laughed. "See, you do have a sense of humor!"

Hrist led, followed by Llewelyn and then Mystina. They passed effortlessly through the stone, which had just been impenetrable to Mystina moments earlier. Alicia, however, held back at the entrance to the cavern.

Hrist noticed this and halted. "What's wrong?" she called back to her. "Don't allow yourself to fall behind. These monsters are too dangerous for you to face alone."

"Sorry," Alicia said, though her eyes remained focused on the stone wall in front of her. She reached out her arm so that her fingers just touched the surface, and then slowly pressed her palm against it. It passed through beyond her sight, then she pulled it back to herself again.

"What's the matter with you?" Mystina called out. "Are you scared?"

"No, I just--" Alicia suddenly grasped at the sides of her head. "I feel something overwhelming here... like... like pain... or maybe hopelessness..."

"Hm... I feel it as well," Hrist replied, and stepped back outside to console Alicia with a hand placed upon the girl's shoulder. Such a show of sympathy was rare and Alicia appreciated it greatly. "I believed that it was simply Mystina's agony, but..."

"I love how you're able to speak about my death so casually," Mystina complained. "That hurt a good deal, you know!"

Hrist ignored her. "It is possible that more than one person has met their end here in front of the gate which leads to Bifrost," she said. "All of you, please stand back. Your psyches will cloud my senses."

Alicia stood still facing the gate, and testing it with her arm again. She looked as if she might cry in her frustration. Llewelyn placed his hand on her wrist, and she forced herself to remain composed. Even Mystina made no comment out of just a touch of compassion. Apparently she had a little of it after all. "Why does my hand hurt, though I've struck nothing?" Alicia whispered to herself as she rubbed the outside of her palm. "As if I'd been banging on that stone until my skin broke."

"Silence," Hrist called. There were too many strong thoughts in this place to read clearly, and one of the strongest was very old. So far, Hrist had only attempted to read the thoughts of the recently deceased. There was no doubt a soul here which lingered in the area, unable to pass on. Was it because it was the soul of an elf? Hrist was unsure whether or not elves could become Einherjar. Even though it was old, she could feel the spirit begging to be materialized, awaiting its chance at rebirth. She held out her hand.

(10)

_Hrist is running, leaping from branch to branch. The body she is inhabiting for the duration of this glimpse into past events is so swift and agile that she feels she is flying. From her fingertips death is dealt by way of bow and arrow. She fights not neither man nor elf, but soldiers of the Aesir. A futile battle, but one that must be fought. Her people will never understand, and so she must fight alone. There is something that she must protect. It is something precious and wonderful, something which cannot be found in the Forest of Spirits._

_Though her skill is more than impressive, she is only one person and the Aesir are many. A battle with the gods can only lead to death. They surround her and brandish their blades._

_She glances at her treasure and smiles contently. Hrist sees neither an object of great power, nor a single person of importance, but a young couple who have hidden themselves beyond the gate of Bifrost. The bond between them, their determination and spirit, that is what she seeks to preserve. _

_Though many complex feelings surround this image, Hrists own are pure astonishment. The man inside the ravine cavern entrance looks identical to Rufus, though his clothing is common traveler's garb. Even stranger... his companion is remarkably similar to Alicia. _

(11)

Alicia turned. She and the others watched as Hrist began to summon forth another form. It was a beautiful woman's figure. They could see that she had dark hair and wore a circlet about her head. The mystical lights wrapped around her, threatening to disperse. They could see that Hrist was having trouble from this, and from the strained expression on the Valkyrie's face.

Eventually, the woman's body was solid. She was a beautiful elvin lady with long green hair and eyes like emerald gems. "Interesting," she said softly. These were her first words in centuries. Her voice was velvety and rich. "I was not aware that elves were considered for Einherjar."

"I do not see why not," Hrist replied, unable to hide her fatigue for a moment. "Come, I offer you life in Asgard. Would you fight for the gods?"

"Yes, and for Midgard and Alfheim as well," she replied with a small smile. "I am Roussalier. I will fight for you, Lady Valkyrie."

"Well," Mystina huffed. "That was much less dramatic, wasn't it?"

"She's an archer, like Llewelyn," Alicia said. "She looks like a nice person, too."

"Elves are the very best archers," Llewelyn said in awe. "I wish I could learn their secrets."

"Perhaps I can teach you some moves," Roussalier said to the young boy with a smile. She and Hrist now rejoined the others.

"You join us just as we are about to cross the bridge of Bifrost with lies beyond this cavern," Hrist explained. "I am sure you know of it well, as an elf."

"Of course," Roussalier replied. "However, I have never entered it, myself. Though we are able to pass, my kind are forbidden." She turned her eyes, calm and kind, to Alicia and smiled warmly. "Where is your friend?" she asked her.

"My... friend?" Alicia responded, confused.

"You know," Roussalier replied, and took Alicia's hands gently. "The young man you were with, where is he now?"

Hrist observed this closely, but said nothing. Alicia returned Roussalier's warm expression with a blank one, completely lost. "I think you must have me mistaken for someone else," she said. "I am certain I've never met you... and I don't know many men."

Mystina snorted. "Yes, you really must be mistaken if you think you've seen _her_ with a boyfriend," she laughed.

"You don't even know me," Alicia said, wrinkling her nose up because every word was true.

"I am a better judge of character than you would peg me for," Mystina replied. "This skill never saved me though, since I tend to hang around shady people regardless."

"Enough of this frivolous chatter," Hrist replied. "Silence from here onward, let me hear only the sounds of your battle cries."

(12)

The Ravine Caverns were dark and held a putrid odor. Luminescent liquid frothed in pools, glowing with unnatural light. Despite the fact that their bodies were immaterial, each of the Einherjar knew better than to get to close to it. The place was populated by hulking ogres with skin like stone and four arms holding crushing axes.

Alicia hated ever minute of it. She fought frantically, hoping to escape. Her playful time with Llewelyn was at an end. One wrong move, and the battle would turn. Alicia wondered why Valkyrie would not summon Belenus and the others to help. Did she really expect her to be the front warrior against such enormous creatures?

She swallowed her fear and forced herself onward. Mystina's magic was powerful enough to knock them down. Then she and Hrist would strike at it in turn. Though she hated it, the feeling of moving in turn with the Valkyrie was exhilarating. She felt suddenly empowered. Roussalier and Llewelyn together felled the smaller things that dared approach them.

Llewelyn's aim was sharp, but his body was small and he was unable to leap as far as his companions on their long legs. Mystina had some trouble as well, she had never been trained to move so much on her feet. Both of them eventually caught breaths of the miasma.

"Forgive me," Llewelyn groaned, as he struggled to keep up. "I am slowing you down..."

"Who has a damned heal spell?" Mystina demanded, not at all guilty about her ineptitude.

"I do," Alicia replied. She felt Valkyrie--_Hrist_ watching her closely, perhaps testing her. It made it hard to concentrate, but she did what she could. She cast Normalize to cure their ailments, then Heal to mend the damage done to their bodies.

"Gods, that feels much better!" Mystina exclaimed. "Why didn't you do that sooner?"

"You're welcome," Alicia groaned and got to her feet.

"Teach Mystina those spells," Hrist said. "And Lemia, I want her to know them as well."

"Feh!" Mystina spat. "A country bumpkin teaching magic to the likes of me? You've got to be kidding!"

"Recognize the strengths of others," Hrist reprimanded her.

"I will," Alicia interjected before the argument went on. "But please, let's get out of here."

"Of course," Hrist replied.

They continued onward, stopping only to heal their injuries when needed. The place was a winding maze which even Hrist Valkyrie had some trouble navigating. Alicia found it hard to believe that there was anything that the Valkyrie couldn't overcome on her own, though her dilemma in the forest days earlier was unsettling. She needed their support. Alicia needed to be strong for her.

(13)

When they saw the light of day again, Alicia swore she had never been happier in her life. The cavern was to be listed as one of the worst places that she had ever been, second only to the town of Kallstad after its curse.

They stood at the edge of a cliff. Apparently the caverns had lifted them high above the land. The canopy of trees laid far below them. In the glare of the sun, a transparent walkway became visible.

"Bifrost!" Mystina cried, and ran out to stand upon it. She was giddy with excitement like a small child. "Do you believe it?" she asked the others. "I'm actually here!"

"Yes," Alicia replied, smiling awkwardly. She was afraid to offend her by not appeared quite as enthusiastic. "It is beautiful..." It was. The more Alicia looked at it, the more magical it was.

Hrist was the next to step out upon it. She did not appear impressed at the least. "The way is safe from here," she said. Then, she summoned the rest of her Einherjar forth. "It appears that my power is greater here, as well," she said, greeting Janus, Belenus, and Lemia.

"So," Belenus said in an unusually light-hearted manner. "You summoned us simply for the pleasure of our company this time? How unlike you, Valkyrie."

"Don't complain," Janus told him, and clapped a hand onto Llewelyn's head. "Have you been learning from our new friend, comrade?" he asked the boy who shared his nation or origin.

"Oh yeah," Llewelyn replied. "Rousallier is amazing!"

Lemia smiled and approached Alicia. "Come on!" she said, taking the girl's hand. They were about the same age, and both kind-hearted and innocent. She began to pull her along. Alicia giggled and followed as they caught up with the others.

They began to cross the bridge, Mytsina leading in front while Hrist Valkyrie and the others followed. Hrist was silent, but listened with a calm and almost motherly fascination to the chatter among her Einherjar.

"It doesn't look like the bridge goes anywhere," Alicia said. "Can you see the other side, Rousallier?"

"Not even with my elvin eyes," she replied. Hrist looked as well. She could see for miles and miles across the beautiful landscape, but Asgard was nowhere in sight over the horizon.

"Don't be stupid," Mystina scoffed. "It ends in Asgard, so obviously it's taking us into another dimension!"

"Oh," Alicia replied. Just moments later, the bridge's invisible and yet sparkling foundations began to bend the light into prismatic colors. "So that's why it's called the rainbow bridge? Um... forgive me, but I've never seen a rainbow before."

"Like a rainbow," Rousallier said, "the closer you approach, the father away it appears to be..."

"Piss on that," Mystina replied. "We're here, and I've found it!"

Alicia gasped as the very ground beneath them began to look farther and farther away. Clouds enveloped them as if they were extremely high in the sky, and light bounced around within them, bursting with millions of beautiful colors.

Hrist spoke, breaking the long silence held as each of them were fascinated. "It is foretold that the bridge Bifrost shall be crushed by the Vanir," she said.

"Then I'll fight the Vanir," Mystina replied. "Sure, why not?"

"I suppose that's a better reason than some," Hrist sighed. She was not sure what could be done with Mystina.

(14)

Finally their journey across the bridge came to an end. They stepped onto ground again in the land of Asgard. Each of them gazed at the landscape in awe, even Mystina who was quite disappointed that the trip was over.

"It's beautiful," Lemia gasped, taking in the expanse of flowers.

"Yes," Alicia agreed. She began to notice not just the flowers, but the structures of artfully carved stone which stood in clusters throughout. She saw the chunks of land which hovered suspended in the air unmoving, as if some god had cleaved his fists into the earth and then frozen the results in time. From these fantastic formations poured sparkling clear waterfalls.

"So..." Lemia began, still gaping at what she saw, "will we be staying here from now on?"

"Not yet," Hrist replied. "All of you are still too weak to exist without my presence for very long, but I will send each of you here permanently when the time comes."

"Not a bad place," Mystina said. "I wouldn't mind settling in."

Llewelyn tagged along behind the two women uneasily. "Is it all right for us to walk around outside of you this way?" he asked. "I feel weak... like my body is thin."

"Until you are able to materialize on your own, you may feel that way," Hrist explained. "For now, so long as I am near you, you will be able to maintain physical form. Asgard extends this effect, so while I am on this plane, you have no need to worry."

"Okay," Llewelyn answered. "Just... don't leave without us, okay?"

Hrist afforded a rare smile for him. "I would never."

"Uh--" they heard Alicia make this small sound. Hrist turned to find that she had stopped somewhere along the way, and now stood behind the rest of the group.

"What is it?" Hrist asked impatiently.

"Does anyone else feel... I dunno... _nostalgic_?" she asked them.

"Nostalgic?" Hrist balked. "What nonsense are you babbling now?"

"Sorry!" Alicia said apologetically, just as a strong gust of wind hit her. "I just feel like everything seems really familiar."

"You're too weird," Mystina sighed. "Would you come on?"

"Yes," Hrist agreed. "Lady Freya awaits."


	9. Hall of the Chosen

(Author's Notes: It took me so long to write this chapter, but now, without further ado... the reunion of Alicia and Rufus, as well as Hrist's realization of her former and current sins. OHTHEDRAMA.)

**Chapter 9: Hall of the Chosen**

(1)

Alicia, Lemia, and Llewelyn stood gaping in awe before the enormous gateway into Valhalla. It was tall enough to accommodate a giant, or perhaps a dragon, and wide enough for forty men to walk side-by-side through.

Mystina, however, was less impressed, or at least she pretended to be. "Don't stand around drawing flies like a bunch of country bumpkins," she chided them. "I'm going to the library to see what mysteries of the world there are to uncover."

"Have fun," Alicia offered meekly, to which Mystina shot her an annoyed expression. Once she was gone, Alicia looked around herself. "I suppose that Janus and Belanus have gone elsewhere," she said. "And where is Rousallier? I thought that she was right here..."

Llewelyn was too excited to worry about where their newest addition, the female elf, had gone. He grabbed Alicia's hand firmly and began to drag her. "Come on!" he said. "I bet we can meet famous warriors from all across time!"

Alicia laughed and followed the energetic boy. He was much younger, but she was short and also quite youthful in her nature and appearance, so she appeared to be the same age. She was always amazed that Llewelyn--who was such a child, really--had assumed the responsibility of an adult. Not only that, but he had been in love before in his short life. She found herself jealous of his experiences. Though she was satisfied with her death if it gave her the chance to save others, she wished her life had been fuller.

Lemia giggled and chased after them. They all ground to a halt, Llewelyn skidding on the marble floors, as a brown-haired woman stepped into their path. She was a swordsman who wore clothes of green and earthen tones. Llewelyn froze. "Wow," he said. "She must be a real Einherjar!"

"Why are you so surprised?" the woman laughed. "Aren't you one?"

"We're sort of honorary Einherjar," Lemia explained awkwardly. "Trainees, you might say."

"New blood?" she replied, highly amused. "You must be Hrist's new recruits. My name is Circe. You may be more familiar with my husband, Kraad."

"Kraad?" Lemia said in awe, blinking. "The founder of Villnore?"

"Yes, him," Circe laughed. Her eyes scanned each of them. When they fell on Alicia, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "It can't be..." she said softly.

"Hm?" Alicia responded, and began to look all around. Surely there wasn't anything special about her that should attract the attention of a full-fledged Einherjar.

"Oh, it's nothing," Circe said, and then smiled. "It's been so long since we've seen anyone new. Why don't I show you around? All of us are preparing for battle, but I have enough time to give you a quick tour. I was looking for that unreliable husband of mine, anyway."

"That would be wonderful!" Alicia exclaimed excitedly, placing her hands together in thanks.

"Very well then!" Circe replied. "Lets go!"

(2)

Rousallier had broken off from the group and quickly lost herself in the vastness of Valhalla. It was liberating to wander unknown places after being confined to that location for so many centuries. The passage of time had left her behind; but here in this place, things were always the same.

She pondered her new status as Einherjar. The elves, in effect, were like minor gods. They had none of the power and neither were their lives ultimately eternal, but they were unable to evolve like gods. Only humans were able to become Einherjar. In order for this to change, the rules of Yggdrassil must have been somehow changed.

"Oh, hey!" a young man said, and stopped her, ripping out of her thoughts. She turned to greet him. He was blonde and wore a white mage's robes, which looked strangely innocent--as if he should be cast in the role of a healer rather than a battle mage. "I haven't seen you around before," he said. "Are you one of Hrist's new Einherjar? It's a pleasure to meet you!" Then he looked a bit longer at her and seemed surprised. "Wait, are you an elf?" he asked. "I'm sorry, I thought you were an Einherjar."

"I am," Rousallier replied. "Somehow..."

He laughed. "Oh, well! My name is Xehnon. If you need anything, just let me know. I thought that since you're an elf that you might be related to Lord Rufus! Nobody ever comes to visit him from the Forest of Spirits... Or wait, do all elves have that green hair?"

"They do," she said, smiling in a friendly manner. "My name is Rousallier. Excuse me, but did you say Lord _Rufus_?"

"Were you expecting Odin?" he chuckled. "You won't find him here, and good riddance! Lord Rufus is our king, and a good one he is. He understands mortals, gods, and elves alike."

Rousallier's eyes drifted away from the kind-hearted Einherjar as understanding blossomed in her mind. Somehow Alicia and Rufus's mission had succeeded. Rufus had taken the throne of Asgard--growing to surpass other gods as half-elves were able. The only factor that seemed out of place was Alicia. It hadn't occurred to her earlier because Alicia looked so similar to when she had last seen her; but she _was_ different. She was happier--less burdened, although there was still some desperation within her.

"I should like to meet him," she said, returning her gaze to Xehnon. "Is there any rule against that?"

"No way," he replied. "Lord Rufus was with the God Generals in their planning room earlier, but they've paused for now because Kraad has gone missing again. He's got a tendency to hide from his wife at times--oh wait, I'm sorry. You probably have no idea what I am talking about."

"I am afraid I've never met this Kraad," she clarified with a soft laugh.

"Sorry," he said again. "We've been the only ones here for so long--you just fall into a habit of assuming everyone knows everyone else."

"I know how you feel," she replied softly. "It is that way in the Forest of Spirits as well."

"Come on," he beckoned with a smile, waving his hand in a gesture for her to follow. "I'll take you to him."

Rousallier smiled and trailed behind him. "Thank you so much."

She gladly followed him through the halls, watching their elaborate surroundings pass by as she did. The sun was beginning to set outside--and she wondered if night had ever fallen in Asgard before Rufus's appearance here. Gold and pink twilight sparkles beamed in through the west windows, while to the east, stars were just barely peeking out from the clouds. The windows were magnificent feats of glass and crystal lined in precious metals. The light poured down into brass sculptures below them that mimicked the sun. Dancing on their rays were artistic representations of the valkyries set in marble.

Xehnon paid no attention to these decorations; and well that he shouldn't, if he had been here for hundreds of years. He led her swiftly through, paying no mind to the bustle of his fellow Einherjar.

Through another massive gateway, there was a bridge that connected two wings of the halls. The wind swept flower petals all the way up from the meadows that laid far below, stained red and violet in the setting sun. Rousallier stopped in her path as she saw the bridge's only occupant, the half-elf Rufus, now dressed in kingly Aesir garb complete with a cape and a crown. He was leaning on the intricately carved side of the bridge, watching the flowers continuously bloom and blow away.

"There he is," Xehnon said, smiling. "You're in luck! He doesn't appear to be busy. Would you like me to introduce you?"

"That's fine, thanks," Rousallier responded. "I would rather introduce myself. You've been such a help."

"No problem," he replied. "Let me know if there's anything else I can do for you--most of us Einherjar stick together around here."

"I will," she said with a warm smile. "Thanks again."

Xehnon returned through the gateway that they had stepped from and was gone. Rousallier looked again and watched as the wind blew through the half-elf king's long hair. The expression on his face was distant and dreamy to the point of being humorously over-dramatic. She wondered if that forlorn look was attributed to doubts surrounding the upcoming battles, or if perhaps he had caught sight of Alicia.

She began to walk across the bridge to find out the answer. Before she had even crossed half of the way to him, he looked up with his ears perked like a cat's, alerted to her presence. Their eyes met and she could have sworn that he was just as young as he had been the day that he and Alicia were running through the Forest of Spirits. He still had that sort of innocence about him.

He stared at her blankly, speechless in recognition. "Rousallier," he said too softly to be heard from where she stood over the wind, but she could read it on his lips. She was impressed that he remembered her name. "How in the..."

She approached him with a smile on her face and waved her hand in greeting. "Hrist has recruited me," she said, once she was within range. "Along with some others."

"O...kay," Rufus replied, still staring as if he didn't believe it. Then he shifted his weight in that familiar, uncomfortable way, so that she wouldn't have guessed any passage of time had occurred to change him. "Uh... good afternoon?"

Rousallier laughed. "I see that you have moved up in the world," she said. "You are the king of Asgard."

"Yeah," he replied, and finally broke eye contact with her. He looked back to the fields and leaned on the bridge's elaborately-carved marble railing. "How about that."

Rousallier also looked away. "I am sorry for reappearing like this," she said. "I know it must jar you, considering that the last time you saw me, I died."

"I've gotten fairly used to that sort of thing," he replied with a bitter laugh. "Einherjar are for the most part, depressing people. Things hardly ever surprise me anymore, but this does."

"I'm in the ranks of Einherjar now," she explained. "Although, I'm starting to get the impression that I've missed out on several hundred years of history, so I will need to be trained quite a bit, I imagine."

Rufus looked back at her once more and he was smiling brightly now. "I've never seen an elf become an Einherjar before this," he laughed. "Then again... an elf has never been nice to me before you."

She watched as he sighed deeply. She recognized it as heavy remorse. It was amazing to her how through everything that the Aesir and the elves had put him through that he could remain so compassionate, even centuries later. Of course, that softness was hidden under his aloof and sometimes abrasive personality which was also in tact. The stagnancy of Asgard at least preserved a few good things.

"Listen," she said sympathetically. "I gave up a life in the Forest of Spirits to save yours, but such a life is boring anyway. I am much happier now. I am so eager to begin serving you, and this valkyrie, Hrist."

Rufus shrugged pretending that he didn't care either way, but rubbed the back of his head anxiously, which was a sure sign that he did. "Well, I'm the king, and I owe you one. Anything you want--it's yours."

"I shall keep that in mind," Rousallier replied, almost laughing. "For now, I have a gift for you, instead. It's a message--a warning, you might say."

"A warning?" he asked, blinking.

Rousallier smiled. "I am not the only one that Hrist brought here whose path you have crossed before. Do not be surprised." As he started at her befuddled, she waved goodbye, turned, and began to walk away.

"Hey, where are you going?" Rufus called after her. "You just stop by, say 'hey I'm alive,' and that's it?"

"It would seem that you have more important matters at hand," she replied, still waving without turning to face him again.

Rufus spun around on the bridge and saw that Frei was standing behind him. "Ah!" he exclaimed with a jump. "Geez, don't sneak up on a guy like that!"

"You're strange," Frei giggled. "Anyway, Freya has instructed me to inform you that Hrist is visiting us with her Einherjar, and to warn you not to take this as an opportunity to slack off."

Rufus frowned. "Eh... Hrist reported to Freya and not to me?" The tone of his voice expressed the bruise now forming on his ego.

"Well, you haven't been in the throne room all morning!" Frei nagged him. "Don't sound so offended!"

"Well, I'll go there _now_," he replied, turning in the direction of the throne room with a cocky swagger.

Frei laughed at him as he walked away. "Oh, Lord Rufus!" she giggled and caught up with him. "How would I entertain myself without you?"

(3)

Hrist had arrived in the throne room some time earlier, having cut a straight path to it after dropping off her Einherjar for sight-seeing. It did feel strange maintaining them all separately at once, but in Asgard, it was not difficult to do in the least. She hoped that giving them this range would help to improve their spirits.

The dark-violet-clad valkyrie stepped into the throne room once more, feeling as if she was returning home. Rufus was not present, but Freya was there. The goddess sat upon her king's throne as if it belonged to her. Hrist suspected that it did, in all but ceremony. Rufus was only involved for symbolic reasons--or perhaps only because Freya was unsuccessful in stealing Gungnir from him.

Freya, though adamantly certain that she was beyond human emotions, looked especially pleased to see Hrist as she entered. "Welcome home, Hrist Valkyrie!" she greeted her in good cheer, stepping down from the throne with her arms wide in greeting.

"I apologize for my lateness," Hrist replied, kneeling before Freya could embrace her. She held out the relic wrapped in velvet and offered it to the goddess. "The Sylvan Bow, treasure of Alfheim."

"I owe you much, Hrist," Freya commended her, taking the bow into her hands. "Come, walk with me. There is a proper dias for it in the room of the Water Mirror."

Hrist agreed, as Freya took to the air and began to hover rather than walk. "Has Lord Rufus been well?" Hrist asked her as they walked.

"More than he should be," Freya hissed in annoyance. "We expect to begin the first encounters soon, and yet for all of their bravado, the Einherjar are hardly ready."

"Morale is an important tool when it comes to human warfare," Hrist argued in Rufus's defense.

Freya turned her nose up and Hrist knew then that she was perfectly aware of Rufus's accomplishments. She was too proud to admit them to her valkyrie.

In the room of the water mirror, they placed the bow on a dias which would contain its power. After this was done, Freya smiled once more. It was strange to see her expressions switch so severely. Hrist wondered how hard it must be to be a goddess living for thousands of years in this stagnant place. If that was her fate, then she blamed Freya little for her quirks.

"You may use the mirror to return with your Einherjar to Midgard," Freya offered. "Oh... and that reminds me. Are any of them worthy of battle yet? I should like to add them to my ranks."

"There are two who may be able to serve you," Hrist said slowly, disliking the idea of giving them up. "Let me discuss it with them."

"Hrist," Freya scolded. "Einherjar are not to be bargained with. Simply send them to me if they are ready, and that is the end of it. I will give you reports on their status from that point onward."

Hrist nodded, but said nothing. She simply could not vocalize a lie to put the goddess at ease.

- - -

The best way to see Valhalla, Circe told them, was to walk down the main path first of all, then go back and check out all the branching hallways. They went about this for quite a while, wondering at all of the sights and greeting the Einherjar within. Eventually they came back to the spot where they had met, and Circe turned to look at them all.

"Well," she said, "I didn't find Kraad, but at least you three know the place enough to keep from getting lost."

"Maybe," Lemia replied. She looked to her left and then her right. "Llewelyn... where has Alicia gone?"

Circe counted only two heads following her, and the missing one was the mos likely to cause trouble--although not intentionally, of course. "Did she get lost?" she asked them. "When was the last time that you saw her?"

"I guess..." Llewelyn began, thinking. Alicia had been unusually quiet, and he and Lemia had been engrossed with the sights. "I guess it was back around the throne room hallway," he said.

"Oh," Circe groaned. "That... could be a problem."

"Why is that?" Lemia asked her. "Would the king be offended should she step into the wrong room?"

Circe smiled reassuringly and shook her head. "No, not at all, it's just that... well, your friend, she's..."

They were interrupted by the loud clatter of Hrist's footsteps as she entered. "There you are," she addressed them. "Are you ready to go?"

"I wish that we didn't have to," Llewelyn said. "I was learning so much from Lady Circe, here."

"Thank you for watching my flock, Circe," Hrist said to the Einherjar.

"Oh, don't thank me just yet," Circe laughed. "I've lost one of them."

"Alicia," Hrist guessed. Something told her that it could only be her. "Where?"

"The throne room," Circe replied. "Lady Hrist... would you walk with me? I have a matter that must be discussed privately."

Hrist nodded to her Einherjar. "Would the two of you find Mystina and the others and wait for me?" she asked them. "I will retrieve Alicia and return soon."

"Of course," Lemia replied.

"Anything you ask, Lady Valkyrie," Llewelyn added, still a bit shy of the name_ Hrist_.

Circe forced a smile though she seemed somewhat distraught, and gave them a wave. "I'm sure I will be seeing the two of you in Asgard again very soon," she said. "Good luck."

- - -

Alicia looked up at the huge door standing between herself and what was described by Circe as the throne room of Asgard--the throne of all thrones, belonging to a king who presided over all kings of all realms. In her mind, she imagined what Odin must be like--an old man with grey hair and a noble brow. The entire throne would be a golden shrine dedicated to his presence. Would a man--no, a _god _like that really help her?

She placed her hands flat against one of the doors and began to push. It was heavy. She reconsidered if she should really be doing this, and then made up her mind and pushed it with all her might. It slid open a crack, just enough for her to slip inside. She did so, and then closed the door gently behind her.

The interior of the throne room was indeed like a shrine. It was aglow with the power of Asgard. Beautiful, sweeping columns arced into the dome overhead. Doors wrought of a metal too beautiful to even be gold lined the room at all angles, perhaps leading to other realms--other worlds. The walls sparkled with energy as if they had been constructed by catching sunlight in solid form. That may well have been the method, Alicia thought. The gods could use whatever fanciful building materials that they liked.

Her eyes trailed along the crimson red streak of carpet which led into the chamber of the throne until it reached the throne itself, ending in an explosion of red and gold around the magnificent chair, the head of which stretched upwards to meet the columns above. It was positioned at the top of a set of stairs at the center of the room so that those who entered could only look up at it.

The chair itself, however, was empty. She tilted her head and looked looked beside it. Sitting on the stairs, leaning his head back against the arm rest of the illustrious thing, there was a man--at least, he seemed more like a man than a god.

"Excuse me...?" she spoke in a meek tone, approaching him. When she drew closer, she saw that though he wore a golden crown and a red cape which matched the color of the crimson path leading to the throne, his robes were woven from fabric of earthy colors and appeared very common and plain. His hair was long and the exact color of Rousallier's. "Lord... uh... my lordship?" she stammered, wondering how she should address this person. Einherjar, Elf, or God, she had no idea what to peg him for. His eyes were closed in a light sleep, and he wouldn't wake up.

"Lord Rufus!" an incredibly loud voice bellowed. There was a noise like the sound of wind chimes, and a flash of light. Alicia backed away in alarm and watched in amazement as a second later, there was a goddess floating in mid-air where there had just been no one. "If you must do such a useless and distasteful thing as _sleep_ like a _mortal_, do it in your chambers, not in the throne of Asgard!"

Suddenly he snorted out of his doze and opened his eyes. He snapped his head around and popped up to his feet. It wasn't just the elevation of his post, he was quite tall in his own right. "Give me a break, I was in a boring meeting all morning!" he retorted, stretching his arms. Then his eyes fell upon Alicia, and he froze stiff with his elbow still at an angle over his head. Freya noticed him fall strangely silent, and cast her eyes down on their visitor as well.

Alicia suddenly felt very exposed and out of place. "Um..." she began, shrinking into herself a bit. "Am I in the correct place? Is this the throne room?"

Freya was infuriated. "How dare you enter the chamber of the All Father without first gaining the right to stand before us, mortal?" she demanded to know. "I pray that ye are lost, for this is blasphemy!"

Alicia felt the goddess's harsh tone stab through her like daggers. She tensed up in fear and threw herself prostrate on the floor. "Please forgive me!" she cried. "Please hear me, my people are desperate!"

"It matters not!" Freya began to object, but then was silenced by the hand of the man at her side.

"Stop it," he said calmly. "What's gotten into you? Won't you hear the request of one of our own Einherjar?"

Freya's only fury increased. She scowled at Rufus and then down at the kneeling girl in sheer and utter disgust. "That is the job of a Valkyrie, not--"

"I'll hear you," he interrupted again, speaking directly to Alicia, and ignoring Freya entirely. "Please rise, don't be afraid. You won't be punished for standing in my presence."

Alicia cautiously rose to her feet, and dared to look up at him. She found him looking upon her with a gentle kindness that reminded her almost instantly of Fortuna for some reason. It was entirely unexpected, and she stared back in disbelief. "A-are you really the All Father?" she asked.

"The audacity!" Freya spouted once again. Alicia noticed something else there in the goddess's expression. It was a sense of recognition upon seeing her face. Freya then glanced quickly to her king, who was paying her little attention. She burned with anger contempt.

Once again, the green-haired man held up his hand to Freya, but spoke directly to Alicia. "No, I'm sorry," he said with a surprising amount of good humor. "You must be new here in Asgard. The truth is that Odin was dethroned several hundred years ago. I am currently the king of Asgard, but my name is..." he hesitated here, and Alicia noticed that he broke eye contact with her for just a moment before reclaiming it. "I am Rufus, and you are welcome here."

Freya did not appreciate this treatment to say the least, but willingly left the matter alone. "I will discuss this with you later on, _Lord_ Rufus," she said with a sarcastic bite. Then the air around her seemed to warp and become like water for a moment, and she was gone.

"I am sorry to trouble you," Alicia said, and bowed deeply again in humility. "Lord Rufus, please forgive me."

"No, honestly," Rufus replied, and took a step down from the stairs surrounding the throne. Though this seemed an attempt to put them on the same level, he was still much taller than she was. "I encourage the Einherjar to speak up when they feel like it. Lady Freya is just a bit too proud for her own good."

"No, she is correct," Alicia replied, still looking downwards. "It's presumptuous of me to make demands of a god, let alone the king of gods, but..." finally she looked up into his face. "I must."

"Go on then," he replied. He smiled along with this, but something about it did not seem pleased.

Alicia gathered her wits, and suddenly her mild demeanor and meek presence were gone. A strong and determined young woman took the shy one's place. She met the king of Asgard's eyes with such an intense expression that he himself seemed to weaken a bit. "My people were frozen solid by a powerful demon," she explained. "I destroyed the demon, costing me my life, but the curse remains. I traveled all the way to this place because I would like to request that the gods use their power to rectify this curse."

He inhaled deeply and his eyes fell to the floor. "I am sorry," he said in a tone heavy with guilt. "I can't use my powers to help you."

Alicia was shocked and stood speechlessly for a brief moment. This was not a refusal, which she might have accepted from an arrogant god--no, this man was saying that he did not possess the power. "Some sort of antidote must exist!" she said. "And as a god, you should have the power to materialize a remedy, or--or something!"

"I can't materialize anything to be used on Midgard," he answered. "I'm sorry... it's against the law."

"Law?" Alicia retorted, forgetting that she was in the presence of the highest of kings. "There is a law against materialization?"

"It can only be used sparingly among residents of Asgard," he replied, "or to make weapons and armor for Ragnorok..."

"That isn't fair!" she retorted loudly, clenching her fists in frustration. "I know that there is something you can do!"

"Listen, please," he said, and forced himself to look up again. Alicia did see the regret and honest sorrow written into his expression, but she could not accept it. "The gods absolutely can _not_ interfere with Midgard for any reason. This is an absolute law that was set in place when Odin was dethroned."

"In other words," Alicia said grimly, "It's a law that you created."

"Yes," he answered. "I vowed to protect Midgard fom the ambitions of the gods, so I forbid the gods from interfering in the lives of mortals upon Midgard. Unfortunately, this prohibits me from acting at all, even when I want to help someone."

"How can you stand back and do _nothing _as people suffer?" Alicia asked him in an accusing tone.

"Please try to understand," he answered. "I know how you must feel... but interfering in the affairs of Midgard can only lead to tyranny and injustice. I can't simply bend the rules whenever I personally feel that it would be beneficial! The Valkyries are deployed to eliminate the undead, but if a problem is outside of their ability to solve, then... it's the same as recalling the dead from their graves. I can't return your loved ones to flesh and blood anymore than I could bring the dead back to life."

Alicia's composure began to crack. "I came all of this way," she in a broken tone. Her chin lowered against her chest, and her hair fell into her face to cover her eyes. "I came here, I even gave my very life to save Fortuna and the others, and now you're telling me that it's impossible... because of some Asgardian bureaucracy..." Her hands balled into up tightly and she fell to the ground on her knees. "I refuse this!" she shouted in tears, and beat her hands on the floor. "If you can't help me, then why was I chosen? Hrist promised that you--_you _of all people should be able to help me!"

Rufus stood there, unable to summon words. "Alicia, I..."

Alicia covered her face with her hands and continued to cry softly, waiting for the king to finally be offended and smite her properly. Finally, she could be in the afterlife where Fortuna, for all she knew, might already be. If her family was truly dead, then not even the gods could bring them back. She did not blame this man, the king of Asgard. She could see the wisdom in his words, and knew that it was her fault for being so stupidly naive and hopeful. Still, a part of her hated him for not being able to help her, and that part was blocking out her rational thought at the moment. He had the power. He just would not use it. He was a _coward_.

She grasped her sword's handle, pulled it out, and held the blade shining in front of her. Her vision was blurry and her eyes burned with tears, but she held the sword firmly. "What if I make you?" she shouted at him. "Then it will be the doing of a resident of Midgard, won't it? That will be within your ridiculous law, won't it? I'll destroy you!"

"Wait, Alicia!"

She sprang at him, and believed whole-heartedly in that moment that one of them would die. She would slay this ineffective god, or he would strike her down for daring to raise arms against him. Most likely she anticipated the latter, but that did not bother her in the least. She was willing to die now, if Fortuna and her parents were truly dead.

She was not shocked in the least when she felt her sword strike nothing but air. What surprised her was the fact that she herself was still unharmed after her failed attack. He had not struck her in response. Instead, he now stood so close now that she could feel a warmth from his body that she did not expect gods to have. His hands were clasped around her wrists, holding the sword out at a safe angle. She looked at them and saw that he wore a ring made of black metal on his left hand. For some reason, that in particular stood out to her.

"Don't be so rash," he laughed softly, though to Alicia it was no laughing matter. Still, it gave her enough time to recover from her emotional state. She wrestled her arms away from him. He placed a hand on her shoulder instead, and looked directly in to her eyes. "How about this. I'll do everything in my power as a _mortal_ to help you," he said. "There might be some way, you never know."

Alicia's eyes opened wide and she blinked. "Huh?" she mumbled. "What do you mean... as a mortal?"

He removed his hand and they both retreated to a comfortable distance of a few feet from each other as he began to explain. "I was a mortal once, a half-elf to be more specific. Because I was one of those sorry souls known as the Vessels of the Gods, I became involved in an uprising against Odin."

Alicia suddenly felt an inexplicable sense of admiration. "You defeated Odin and became a god?"

"Well, not exactly," he replied, and scratched his head nervously again. "That was the plan at first. I tried, but it wasn't me who did it... I stepped in afterwards. Pretty cowardly, I guess... Anybody could have done it. But, you could say that I made a promise to someone who is important to me. That promise was that I would turn Midgard into the kind of world where everyone is the decider of their own fate, and no one will ever be a slave to the gods."

"I see," Alicia answered. "I am sorry I jumped to conclusions. I thought you were just being a poor king."

"Well, that remains to be seen," he laughed. "But hey, I'll see what I can do to help your people without getting directly involved. I do make exceptions when it comes to the work of demons, because I don't believe that they should have control of Midgard either. Still, I believe that it should ultimately be up to humans to defend their own land against them. Otherwise, they would be dependant on our protection, and that really solves nothing."

"I am not sure how we are supposed to do that on our own," Alicia responded. "Even with the power of the Valkyrie on our side..."

The deceptively young-looking lord grinned and placed his hands on his hips. "I'll ask everyone about this problem of yours, and see if there isn't some way to go about curing the affliction using a power that can be found on Midgard. Then if all else fails, well uh..." He grinned and placed his hand against the back of his head. "You can always try to kill me again, if you want to."

Alicia suddenly felt embarrassed and looked away, hiding her face behind her hand. "Please forgive me, I have no idea what came over me."

"I'll let it slide," he replied. He took a few steps up the stairs to the throne and sat down upon it. There, he looked incredibly out of place. "For now, why not stay with Hrist for a while? I'll call you when I gather some information."

"Thank you, Lord Rufus. I'm so... so sorry..."

Rufus laughed, apparently taking no offense at all. "Don't worry, it was kind of refreshing. Until next time, Lady Einherjar... Ah... I haven't gotten your name. What is it?"

"But," Alicia said. "You... you used my name."

"I did?" Rufus replied, blinking in surprise.

"Yes," she said with a nod. "I believe you used it twice... I just assumed that a god like you would know things like people's names. How else would you know it?"

"Ah, you're right of course!" he laughed, though it sounded obviously fake. "Ha ha, there I go trying to be down to earth, and I didn't even notice that I'd already used your name! Very well then, Lady Alicia."

Alicia bowed graciously, completely baffled by everything that had happened. She had no idea what sort of parting line would be best, so she used the same one that she always did. "Thank you, goodbye!"

She turned and hurried out of the throne room, happy to have escaped with her life. Although, thinking about it more clearly, things had gone surprisingly well.

- - -

"Lord Rufus is deeply in love with the girl you know as Alicia," Circe said.

Hrist was so unprepared to hear this that it felt as if she had been slapped in the face. "What?" she spouted. "You must be mistaken!"

"No," Circe replied. "Several hundred years ago, Rufus fell in love with the girl who served as Silmeria's vessel. She died along with the rest of you valkyries, and all of you were returned to Midgard. Rufus, however, chose to remain here and protect Midgard's future." She turned her face down sadly. "You see... even though Alicia has been reborn many times... and even though Rufus has known of her... he has never _ever_ made any attempt to involve himself in her life. At the same time, I know that he loves her as much as the day that she died. I know these things because I am a woman whose heart has belonged to a man for hundreds of years as well. I just can't imagine living _for_ him rather than _with_ him... how painful that must be."

"The fool," Hrist sighed, pressing her eyes shut in frustration. "Why did he never make mention of it? By twist of fate, I've brought her here where her presence may hurt him..."

"You don't wish to hurt him do you?" Circe said with a smile. "You have changed, Hrist. The last time I met you, we were on the field of battle, on opposite sides."

"I have not changed so much as I have not remembered who I was," Hrist replied, unhappy with that fact in itself. "I don't even remember what brought us to facing each other in battle."

"Silmeria opposed Lord Odin," Circe answered her in a grave tone. "The two of you clashed."

Hrist stopped in her steps at the mention of that. She could not remember it at all, and yet part of her knew that it was true. She lifted her hand to cover her face. "Oh..." she groaned in guilt and frustration. "Oh, Alicia... what have I done to you?"

"Lady Hrist," Circe said softly, compassion filling her voice. "I did not mean to accuse you... it is true that in the end, you and your sisters all reconciled along with Alicia. Please, do not dismay. I think that when all is said and done, ultimately, much good may come of this turn of events!"

"How could that be?" Hrist said as she regained her composure. "I've doomed Alicia to a life of fighting that she never wanted to lead, and Lord Rufus to watching her for the rest of eternity so close by and yet still so completely unreachable. I may as well have sent them both to the forsaken lands of Nifelheim."

Before Circe could answer with anything supportive, they heard the loud voice of her husband, Kraad, bellowing in the halls. "Crice!" he called out, and rushed up excitedly. He grabbed his wife of many hundreds of years and spun her around. "I heard that you met Alicia! Where is she? It's no fair if I don't get to see her!"

"If you see her, you'll speak of nothing from her former life, do you hear me?" Circe snapped at him with frightening authority.

"But... but _why_?" Kraad whined in a tone that was not at all befitting of his age. Circe loved that exuberant, almost childish aspect of his personality, which never faded no matter how many years went by--but it was trying at times. "Lord Rufus is so depressing lately, it would be great if the guy could finally get--_oww!" _The familiar sound of Kraad shouting as a woman pressed her heel into his foot filled the halls.

"Ah, Lady Circe!" came the cheerful voice of Alicia, as she ran up to greet them. "And Lady Valkyrie," she said as her eyes fell on Hrist. "Were you looking for me? I hope that I haven't brought you any trouble..."

"Not at all," Hrist replied, and forced a smile. "Come, Alicia. The others are waiting for us."

Alicia had no idea what the occasion was, but she liked to see her valkyrie smile, and did the same in return. "I think that everything is going to be wonderful," she said cheerfully.

Circe and Kraad exchanged knowing and pleased expressions, but said nothing else. Hrist took a deep breath and turned to the path leading out of Valhalla. "Let's go," she said.

She and Alicia began to walk. She was silent, wondering why she had been unable to put the story together before. Alicia's appearance was like that of her sister, the brief flash of her image seemed clearer the more she looked at her. Silmeria... the sister she had turned against.

"Um... Lady Valkyrie?" Alicia addressed her meekly, as they passed through an empty hall. Hrist's boots clanged against the floor as they stepped down a few stairs here and there, nearly drowining out the girl's voice.

"You may address me as Hrist if it suits you," Hrist replied, turning to face Alicia, then her expression softened a bit. "Or Leone, even. It is up to you."

"I'm sorry, I don't remember you as Leone," she answered regretfully. "But Hrist is a good name. It's familiar, but sounds very regal at the same time."

"What is it, Alicia?" Hrist asked, trying not to sound too impatient. She was simply unsettled by how important Alicia was to her in ways that she could not yet understand entirely.

"I was wondering," Alicia began timidly, "if I could maybe ask you about Lord Rufus."

Hrist frowned and folded her ams over her chest. "I heard that you caused a stir."

Alicia jumped at that and raised her arms defensively. "What did you hear? I-I definitely didn't mean to do anything wrong, and I apologized!"

Hrist turned her eyes to the panicking girl, and her awkward manner. She noted how strangely similar it was to the way Rufus would carry on when he was flustered. "It's no matter," she said. "Lord Rufus is very slow to take offense, in fact we scold him regularly for being too friendly with the Einherjar."

"Is that so?" Alicia wondered aloud. "He seems like a nice person..."

Hrist sighed. "What did you want to ask me about him?"

"Oh," Alicia remembered, then turned away slightly. "I was wondering if Lord Rufus is married..."

Hrist couldn't resist a snort at that. "What made you think that he might be?"

"Well," Alicia replied, "he was wearing a nice ring on his finger, where you would wear a ring if you were married," she demonstrated by holding up her left hand and pointing to her ring finger very obviously, though Hrist really did not require further clarification. "And you know... Lady Freya is quite protective of him. The two of them act like an old couple, don't you think?"

"That is preposterous," Hrist spat, half disgusted and half wanting to laugh. "Freya hates Rufus, she loved the late Odin, you see."

"_Oh_," Alicia responded in sudden understanding, her mouth forming a round O. "But Rufus said that he did not kill Odin!"

"He didn't," Hrist answered. "It was another man, who Rufus then killed... or so, that is what was told to me. That is the only reason why Freya tolerates Rufus--he is the one who carried out her revenge. The two of them were not allies when that happened, however--far from it. Rufus defied the gods and stole back Gungnir. Instead of returning it to Freya, he made himself king of Asgard. Impressive, I'd say. Freya is only able to maintain her position as the second strongest of all gods because Rufus allows her to, because he needs her wisdom in order to rule effectively."

"Oh, so they have a business kind of relationship..." Alicia mumbled this while looking up in thought.

Hrist raised one eyebrow behind her helmet. "Is that relief that I detect in your tone?"

This teasing failed to strike Alicia where Hrist intended. "I suppose it relieves me and disappoints me in different ways," she said. "I only saw him for a few minutes, but something about him... he seemed so sad and lonely. I would hate to think that he felt that way even with a wife by his side, but now that I know he isn't married, well... it makes me just as sad."

"Just why exactly does it matter to you whether the lord is sad or not?" Hrist answered with a grimace. "It isn't anything that you can help."

"I know," Alicia replied. "I'm not sure... I guess... something about him reminded me of myself."

"He is a charismatic leader," Hrist replied. "Although... it's hardly intentional. In fact, it is because he is flawed and there is sadness in his heart that we can all relate to him. He is not simply an emotionless god for whom we are to lay down our lives out of respect for the divine law. He is a person who cares for us, and we care for him in return."

"I've never heard you speak of emotions and caring and things like that in such a high regard," Alicia said with a soft giggle. "Hey, but... someone should help him, don't you think? Someone should help him not to be so lonely..." She looked up at Hrist with a grin. "Perhaps it could be you!"

"Gods _forbid_," Hrist retorted in disgust. "Just... just go ahead and find the others, would you?"

"As you wish, Lady Hrist," Alicia said with a laugh, and darted away. She skipped to the corner fo the room and then called back playfully, as if it was her sister Fortuna she was talking to. "Maybe you should think about it a bit longer! He really is quite handsome for a god, you know?"

Hrist gripped her lance threateningly. "Just be on with you!"

When she was gone, she leaned upon it and held her eyes closed. She had delivered the bow to Freya. She had brought his tragic love here, as well as a friend he lost in life. She was all but torturing her lord in the name of Ragnorok.

How very Hrist-like, she thought with a sneer.


	10. Crossroads

**Chapter 10: Crossroads**

(0)

Janus and Belenus were selected as the two Einherjar most suitable to remain in Valhalla. Hrist thought on their parting, Janus patting Lewellyn's head as he said, "Until the next time we meet, comrade." Hrist had always known that their separation was inevitable, but this was difficult. She wondered if this was what it felt for a mother to send her sons off to war. She found it inappropriate for one who reaps the battlefield of souls to feel this way, but the sensation lingered.

"I am confident that the two of you will make fine warriors for Valhalla," was all that she had said. As Hrist or Leone, she had never been good at saying goodbyes. People came and people left. That was the way of it. She mounted her search once again.

"We will not fail you," Belanus said, as if they could somehow bring her shame. Live in glory or die on the battlefield--either path would be acceptable to Hrist Valkyrie.

(1)

The city of Crell Monferainge had grown increasingly inviting to mercenaries as Villnore's forces ravaged the country of Artolia. Though the general populace of the holy nation looked down upon such unsavory characters, the military authority recognized the usefulness of hired arms--disposable men. Now that Artolia was gone, Crell Monferainge would gladly take in those mercenary soldiers who held grudges against Villnore.

Artolia gone! The very idea filled Kashell with rage that he could hardly contain. He had not been there to fight for the honor of the kingdom that had raised him. Artolia certainly had its problems, and it was likely to collapse in short time had it not been destroyed. Only naive noble-folk who lived in their dream worlds above the commoners could be stupid enough to believe that Artolia was a strong nation; but that wasn't the point. The people of Artolia had raised them--he and Celia both, as well as many of their friends whose parents were either poor, absent, or dead. It burned him up inside to know that he would not even have the chance to fight for her honor in the final battle!

But, good old Lawfer was still back there with Her Highness. The bonds between each of them were strong, and with Lawfer still in Artolia, at least it felt as if they were being represented. He just hoped that Lawfer wouldn't bite it. Celia probably couldn't handle it if another one of their pact died.

Leone had not been part of their partnership, but she had been a friend to Celia. Still, her death wasn't too bad on it's own. In their line of work, comrades bit the dust all the time. It was Lemia--that was what really knocked Celia off her rocker. Lemia was the youngest of their group, and a magic-user confined to the back of any battle for her safety. She was innocent enough to befriend Grey, someone even Kashell had never trusted. Celia had been closest to Grey outside of Lemia herself. What really happened between the three of them on the night that Gerabellum burned, Kashell had an insatiable urge to know.

Then there had been Alicia, who barely knew them. All three of them had been instantly drawn to the girl they found locked in the shrine of Kallstad. Maybe it was because they missed Lemia so much that they attached themselves to Alicia so readily, and maybe it was simply because she was kind-hearted and determined. Kashell had even been entertaining the idea of treating her to dinner once they cured the people of Kallstad and things had calmed down. She was really cute. It hurt to think of her pretty face now, knowing that she was dead, and that she hadn't been allowed to experience all the things in life that she should have. She never chose to be a warrior; though she certainly had a warrior's spirit.

Though Celia walked beside him steadily without showing any sign of grief as they made their way through the streets of Crell Monterfrainge, he knew that she was about to crack. It was his duty to watch her, and to protect her, though he would never put it that way to her. She would smack him if he did. This was not just for her sake, but for his own. He needed her--needed her so badly that he created a line between himself and her that he would never cross.

He clapped a hand onto her shoulder as they walked. They were behind Aeila, so there was no risk of being ridiculed by her. "I'm okay," Celia said, pulling away from him.

"You look pale," Kashell replied. "Maybe we should stop and get something to eat."

She shook her head. "I'll be fine. We need to make our report first of all."

"If you say so."

(2)

As they walked towards the mercenary's guild, they passed a bustling tavern. They could already smell the scent of food and hear the typical commotion of a busy pub. Aelia stopped in front of her friends, placing her hands on her hips in amusement. "Well, this place is awfully lively for the uptight residents of Crell Monterfreigne!" she chuckled. "Are you sure you don't want any food?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Celia answered.

"Well let's make this job fast then, I'm starving."

Kashell wondered how Aeila could be in such high spirits after all that had happened. Maybe she was playing the strong one, too. He looked at the three of them and wondered if he wasn't the weakest link in their chain for displaying his feelings openly, or did the ability to do so without cracking somehow make him the strongest one? "These folks are likely from Artolia," he said. "I'd say most people from our line of work have relocated rather than stick around to defend a dying nation."

"I worry for Lawfer," Celia replied.

Aeila shrugged. "He's with that princess, so he should be at the most well-protected place in Artolia.

"But no place in Artolia is safe," Celia replied, "and if Villnore seeks to kill Jelanda and end the line of Artolia's royalty, then he will be directly in their path..."

"Hey, don't think about things like that!" Aeila spouted, turning around. "We have to look for Grey. Don't worry about Lawfer! He chose to stay behind on his own and protect that stupid princess on his own!"

Celia looked away. Kashell knew what she was thinking, but chose not to say. They should have supported their friend and their homeland even if it was futile. Maybe Aeila didn't feel that same loyalty because she was of a race that had no true home in Midgard, and maybe she was using Grey as an excuse to some extent. Whatever the matter, they had to find Grey.

(3)

"What do you mean it was destroyed?" Lucian shouted. "I was just there little more than a week ago!"

The man behind the desk of the newly established mercenary's guild in Crell Monterfrainge scowled, rejecting the young man's attitude. "It's confirmed news that everyone in Kallstad is dead," he grumbled, "don't shoot the messenger."

Lucian's hands slammed onto the desk with a heavy clatter. His head hung low and his shoulders tensed. "Alicia and Fortuna," he whimpered through a dry throat. "If I had only stayed a little longer, I could have helped them..."

"Yeah, and then you'd be dead too, buddy," the older man said in an annoyed tone with a huge lack of sympathy. "The sign-up fee is 500 OTH. Do you have it, or are you wasting my time?"

"I..." Lucian mumbled, still shaken to his core by the news.

"Who gives a rat's ass about a bunch of desert hicks anyway?" the man grumbled. "The gods gave them what they deserved for sitting on the fence like they did. If you're not with Crell Monterfrainge, then you're an enemy!"

A growl began to rumble in Lucian's chest just a second before he lunged at the man, shouting "You scum!" and attempting to throttle him. After being roughly handled by several of the guild's members, he was promptly thrown out onto the street.

"_Damn_ it," he moaned in grief, beating his fists into the cobblestone street. His memories of Alicia and Fortuna were so recent that they were still vivid. It was surreal to think that they no longer existed. "Gods, why was I spared instead of that innocent girl?"

A shadow fell over him and he heard a voice speak. "Hey, what the Hel is the matter with you?" a young man said. Lucian glared up to find a tall young swordsman with long dark hair standing over him. Lucian could not handle the lecturing of yet another arrogant citizen of Crell Monterfrainge, but this man was different. Though his words were harsh, he wore a sympathetic expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," Lucian replied, still prostrate on the ground. "Please ignore me. I've just received terrible news."

"That's funny," the man said, though his tone was devoid of humor. "We've just delivered terrible news."

A black-haired woman clad in blue and white garments and light armor circled around the large, long-haired swordsman and knelt beside him. "Did you know someone in Kallstad?" she asked.

He sat up. "Briefly," he said. "I've just come from there. I must of left just days before they were attacked."

"And we arrived days after," the man said. "Listen, what did they tell you?"

Lucian looked up, a bit of hope in his eyes. "That everyone is dead," he said. "Is it not true?"

Another woman appeared behind the swordsman. This one wore bright green armor all over her body and had hair as bright red as a flame. Her expression was unkind; she looked annoyed. "It depends on how you define 'dead'," she explained. "They're all frozen solid."

"Frozen?" Lucian exclaimed in confusion as he stood up. "What do you mean... frozen?"

The red-haired woman snapped at him angrily. "What are you, stupid? I said FRO-ZEN!" He still stared at her dumbly, and she reached into her pack. The others jumped to stop her, but they were not quick enough to prevent her from removing what looked like a sculpture of a man's arm. "Frozen!"

"Ah!" Lucian screamed, realizing that it was a "sculpture" of ice, and yet it would not melt even in the sunlight. "What in the name of the gods?"

"Put that away!" Celia shrieked at Aeila. "It isn't his fault! It isn't his fault at all!"

Lucian's eyes fell to the ground. "But suppose it is...?"

The swordsman sighed in frustration and held his hand out to Lucian. "Name's Kashell," he said, as Lucian took his hand and shook it. "This is Celia, and our loud friend is Aeila. Now, I suggest we all get a beer before we try and tell our stories."

Lucian wasn't one to drink, but in this situation there was little to argue against it. "Sure," he said. "I am Lucian, by the way."

(4)

After an unsuccessful information exchange at the mercenary's guild, Kashell and the rest had decided to turn back to the lively inn they had passed on their way. They could all hear Aeila's stomach growling, and he feared that Celia would grow ill if she didn't have something to eat. Despite the hurry he was in, he couldn't overlook a young man grieving on the side of the road. As fate would have it, Lucian had much in common with their own party.

"You passed through Kallstad while you were looking for a girl," Kashell recapped. Lucian nodded slowly as everyone at the table watched him. Though each of them were still completely sober by the time their stories were exchanged, Lucian was starting to look a little loosened up. Innocent fellow, Kashell thought. He was lucky that their group weren't the types to leave him drunk in an alley stripped of all his material possessions. "You even met Alicia, who we later ran into..."

"I stayed with her sister at the shrine," he explained.

"Oh," Kashell thought, and rubbed his chin remembering the frozen woman. He had almost mistaken her for one of the statues of the valkyries in the shrine, but there was no way that a statue in Kallstad could have been carved that well. "Best not to let your other girl know." Lucian closed his eyes and furrowed his brows in distaste before taking another swig of his drink.

"Don't tease a guy while he's grieving!" Aeila nagged Kashell, having changes attitudes regarding the poor young man drastically; but her loud voice was probably doing more harm to Lucian than any joke of Kashell's.

Celia spoke calmly and clearly. "Alicia was a brave person who died a hero's death," she said. "I am convinced that it was goddess Valkyrie who came to save her soul from the demoness."

Lucian smiled, but he looked more like he might cry. "She seemed so innocent when I spoke to her," he said. "I can't even imagine her holding a sword."

"You only knew her for a few minutes," Kashell groaned. "Why are you so stuck on this?"

"I'm just like that, I suppose," he replied. "I've been stuck on a girl who's most likely dead for years... but Alicia, she just seemed to have a lot in common with me. We were both looking for something that we may never find..."

"Ah, well," Kashell sighed, giving in. "I understand. Alicia had something about her... We were all drawn to it. I don't know what it was."

Lucian said nothing for a moment while he downed the last of the glass of ale that he was on. Kashell was already one ahead of him, but nobody was counting. He slammed the glass down onto the table. "So, where do you go from here?"

"Good question," Kashell replied. "We have two priorities. One is to take the sample we collected in Kallstad to a researcher to see if anything can be done about the affliction. Another is to find a man who betrayed us and killed one of our friends..."

"Ah," Lucian nodded. They had not told that portion of their history yet, but it was a simple explanation enough.

(5)

For days Hrist had searched the city in her human form, hoping desperately to find her one lead on Lenneth Valkyrie. She had finally located him, and cursed her damnable luck. He had fallen into company with the only people in the entire _world_ to whom she could not appear as Leone. How was it that those suitable to become Einherjar were somehow drawn to each other?

Someone_ must speak to him,_ Rousallier said. _Before he's lost again._

"You'd attract too much attention, being an elf," Hrist said quietly to herself. She--in human form, of course--stood in a back alley behind the tavern where Lucian sat with Kashell, Celia, and Aeila. There was no one to hear her, still she wanted to avoid looking insane to anyone who might pass by.

_Obviously I can't go,_ Lemia added. _Nor can Alicia._

_Why not me?_ Lewellyn asked.

"This is your home," Hrist replied. "I cannot risk someone recognizing you."

_Right,_ Lewellyn answered. There was a flash of remorse as he remembered that Millia lived somewhere nearby, and he had promised to leave her forever--or at least until another life.

Mystina pushed her way to the front of the voices within Hrist's soul. _Oh, just Let me do it!_ she said. _Geez, you act like I'm not even here._

"I didn't expect you to take any interest in this," she replied.

_Anything for a chance to stretch my legs_, Mystina replied. Hrist considered this carefully. Mystina did possess the sort of tact that she needed... but only when she personally wanted to use it.

"You do know what needs to be done," Hrist assumed. "Ask him about Lenneth."

_I can take it a step further than that_, she promised. _I'll get him to leave the others so that you can interrogate him about this missing valkyrie yourself._

_And how are you going to do that? _Alicia interjected.

Mustina chuckled. _With my feminine wiles, of course._

A protest from Alicia. _Lucian won't go anywhere with you! _

"Silence now," Hrist sighed. "Out with you, Mystina. I summon you forth."

Mystina's physical body materialized in the dark back alley beside Leone. After a moment of concentration from the valkyrie, the transformation was complete. She appeared as flesh and blood. It would be impossible to tell her apart from any mortal woman.

She seemed pleased with this as she adjusted the straps of her clothing so that they were straight and then smoothed out her hair. "Good job," she commended Hrist. "Oh, and look! Your human form is pretty sexy. If we can get him alone, I'm sure that we can get the boy to say and do whatever we want him to."

Hrist groaned in dismay at this as Alicia piped up in her mind, barking her disagreement in a high-pitched voice. "You're to do nothing of the sort, Mystina," she instructed. "Only ask him if he knows anything about a silver-haired woman."

"Oh, all right," Mystina agreed. "But you're no fun."

(6)

Mystina entered the tavern and scanned the crowd curiously. There were very few people of interest here outside of Hrist's targets themselves, just a bunch of drunken losers. She sighed in disappointment and made her way over to the table where the blonde-haired young man with all of that bright red armor on sat with his new friends.

"Excuse me," she said, leaning over very far. She placed her hands on her hips and smiled pleasantly. "Would you all be the ones who came from Kallstad?"

"What's it to you?" the red-haired woman asked. Mystina made a face at the huge lance resting beside the table where she sat.

"I hoped that you might tell me the news," she began, thinking fast. "Those yokels at the guild are so tight-lipped and tight-fisted!" she complained. "Oh, not to mention tight-assed."

The tall man with the astonishing long, dark hair laughed. She smiled at him, and hoped that he would get himself killed pretty soon. For being a hall of warriors, Valhalla didn't have nearly enough good-looking sword-chuckers. He shamelessly smiled back at her, and the little black-haired girl sitting in the back cleared her throat. "Ha," he said. "Well, I'm sorry, but we're tired of telling that tale. It's too depressing."

"I see," Mystina answered, folding her arms over her chest. "Well, that's too bad. I could pay you well for the information."

"Oh, really?" the heavy-sword replied. When the light hit his hair it had sort of a blue sheen to it. Oh, but he was cute! Mystina told herself to focus.

"Yes, of course," she said in a patronizing tone. "You see, I am an informant in these parts. If you want to know anything, you can ask me--for a few OTH, that is. Or... maybe something else that I want."

The abrasive red-haired girl at the back held her hands up lazily with a shrug. "So tell us something interesting and Kashell will take his pants off."

The smaller dark-haired one grumbled as she lifted her mug to her lips. "You don't even have to tell him anything for that," she muttered.

"Now Celia, come on!" Kashell retorted defensively.

_"_"Jealous, are we?" Mystina chimed. "Well, how about this. I could trade you the story from Kallstad for anything that you want to know. Need a job? I've got it."

"We're currently booked up," Celia grumbled.

Lucian finally looked up from the table and met eyes with Mystina. "There's something I'd like to ask you about," he said, and then looked at the others. "I mean... if all of you don't mind."

"Be my guest," Kashell answered. He slid a chair out for Mystina with his foot, inviting her to sit. Mystina did so, ignoring the glares she received from Celia.

Lucian looked down and then raised his face to Mystina again. "Has there been any report in recent year involving abductions?" he asked. "Particularly those that might involve ogres or other monsters in some way?"

Mystina's mouth dropped open in disbelief after those words came from the young swordsman's mouth. She had expected him to ask her about the silver-haired girl who served as the current vessel for Lenneth. This was unexpected, but it was highly relevant to Mystina. It just so happened that Mystina had, in fact, been ripped out of her home at night by ogres--or more accurately, failed homonculi who would look like ogres to anyone not versed well in magica and science. Suddenly she felt vexed that nobody was out searching for her like this man was looking for--

Wait.

"Looks like you've stumped her," Kashell chuckled.

Mystina realized that her shock was showing through to the others and quickly put on her poker face again. "I have heard of a case similar to that," she replied to Lucian.

Lucian's eyes lit up immediately. All traces of his foul mood were gone. "Have you? Please tell me!"

Mystina smirked. This was going to be easy. "Down in Flenceburg," she said. "A young woman went missing. She was a researcher at the Flenceburg academy of magical arts. There were reports that large green ogres carried her off into the night. I thought that the stories about it were silly, but now that you say you've heard of another event like that, I have to believe it."

"Flenceburg!" Lucian said, standing up from his chair. "I must go there!"

"Whoa, calm down," Kashell interrupted. "Nobody's going anywhere tonight." He sighed as Lucian sat back down, frustrated that it was too late in the day to begin traveling. Kashell looked back at Mystina. "So, can I ask you something, or is that a one-time-only offer?"

"Oh, for you, I'll lend my services for free," she said sweetly.

"All right then," Kashell replied, ignoring the looks this bought him from Celia. "Have you seen a man come through here wearing a helmet? It kind of looks like a dog face with horns, very strange."

"I'd think I'd remember a guy like that if I saw him," Mystina said. "Sorry. Whoever he is, he must not want to be found." She had no idea if he would or not, but was making everything up at this point.

- - -

To lend credit to her story, she stayed and listened to them retell the tale of Kallstad. Initially this interested her very little, but she found herself just a little bit curious as to Alicia's history. The girl was so fun to pick on, after all.

Mystina had never thought about death too deeply, not even after she lost her own life. Death did not seem so tragic to her. It took some effort to remind herself that most people had loved ones who actually missed them once they were gone. She thought bitterly that maybe she was better off this way, but in her heart of hearts there was jealousy.

After the story, she said her goodbyes to the mercenary team and their friend. She laughed at how pleased the one named Celia was to see her go. Being in physical form for so long was wearing on her. She loathed to think of her soul being so weak, but it was undeniable. She felt tired and more than ready to take a nice long nap in the safe house that was Valkyrie's soul.

Still waiting in the back alley, Valkyrie looked just plain odd when she was posing as a human. She still had a dangerous beauty, but without her armor, there was nothing menacing about her at all. Well, except for the displeased expression on her face. "You've taken much too long," she scolded her.

"Well excuse the Hel out of me," she responded, and crossed her arms.

"Forgive me," the Valkyrie answered, which was strange to hear. "You've done well, but the length of your time away from me threatens to degrade your spirit."

"So you were worried?" Mystina asked her, finding that hard to believe. Valkyrie only stared back at her with a rigid look and nodded. Mystina shrugged. "Well, I've come home."

With that, she allowed herself to be assimilated back into Valkyrie's spirit. Her body faded away and she felt warm again, completely stable. _Lucian has a lead on the location of the girl he is looking for_, she said, failing to mention that she herself who gave him the lead. _ He is heading to Flenceburg, and the others may go with him._

"Interesting," Valkyrie replied with a notable lack of enthusiasm. "You have done well."

_It was my pleasure_, Mystina replied.

Now that little freak would definitely get what he deserved.


	11. Saint Dragon

**Chapter 11: Saint Dragon**

(1)

For such high caliber mercenaries, a job guarding a simple merchant caravan through a well-populated area with little risk of attack would normally be a joke. Aeila, lance-wielding maiden of battle and descendant of the Dragon Tribe, found the work insulting. However, she and her friends were in need of transportation.

Lucian and Celia were no help at all. Though both tried their very best to hide it, they were stricken with grief. Celia had a few good reasons; but in Aeila's own opinion, Lucian was just a nut case. He had pinned his life's goal to some girl he knew when he was a kid, and then these feelings had obviously transferred to Alicia somehow, thus the heavy sorrow he felt despite having only briefly met the girl.

But when it came to Alicia, she couldn't argue against that. There was something strangely wonderful about that girl. The same sort of aura had surrounded Leone of Artolia. Leone had always remained so distant from everyone even though she was very talented and beautiful. Aelia thought darkly that if she joined them in their fate, at least she too would be eternally beautiful.

Kashell was being of help, which was a huge surprise. He did his best to keep Celia occupied and watched the rear from the last cart in line, while Lucian and Aelia were given horses to ride at either side of the line of three wagons. Lucian was all but useless given his mental state and tendency to daydream, and so Aeila took it upon herself to watch out for everyone present.

Trouble is, there was nothing to watch out for. Their masters constantly asked trivial questions and were Hel-bent on enforcing the strictest security measurements out of paranoia, but there was nothing there. The ride quickly became monotonous. Maybe Lucian could at least provide some entertainment if nothing else.

Aeila rode up alongside Lucian out of boredom. "You remind me of a legend," she said.

Lucian snapped out of his obviously distant thoughts. "What kind of legend?"

Aeila took a breath and then began to explain with a haughty air of great dignity. "Tales of the Dragon Saint, Arngrim."

"Oh?" Lucian replied with only moderate interest. "I haven't heard of those…"

"They are only written in records held by the Dragon Tribe, and could be lost to time for all that I know," she explained with a shrug as if her own heritage concerned her very little. "I know them by heart though, all of my people do."

"Really?" Lucian asked, forcing a smile. "Which one do I remind you of, then?"

"The Saint King," Aeila replied with a coarse chuckle. "Want to hear it? I'm bored out of my skull."

"If you like," Lucian replied.

Aeila cleared her throat and began. "First off—and you should already know this if you have been traveling at all--Arngrim was a dragon, famous for his indifference towards humans, which is a good deal better than wanting to eat them, as is usually the case with dragons. He was involved in situations that might peg him a hero, but as a character in these stories, he is always very aloof and unconcerned with justice or righteousness."

Lucian smiled just a little. "He sounds a little like you," he said.

"Ha, I guess you could say that," Aeila answered him with a short laugh. "He was also a simple soul, preferring ale and solitude over arts and literature. But, I suppose he did grow bored after so many years of defending Midgard, and when presented with enough booze--that was his favorite offering, don't you know--he would tell stories of his comrades."

Lucian nodded to show that he was following along, though his attention was slacking.

"Hey, you know the story of the lost princess, right?"

Lucian looked up. "Was that the princess of Dipan?" he asked. "Coriander used to trade with Dipan long ago, and they still name girls after her, don't they?" His chin dropped down abruptly. "I bet Alicia was named after her…"

Aeila hadn't thought of that when she began telling the story, but refused to let that put a damper on it. "They say all the documents depict that she was executed along with the king and queen by Hrist Valkyrie at the end of a woefully short rebellion against the gods," she began again, "but I hear that there's plenty of scholars and that sort who claim that those records were falsified, and that the princess lived to strike back against the gods. This agrees with the legends that were supposedly told to my tribesmen by Arngrim, and the theory has some importance to this story so--what the Hel, let's go with it."

"Certainly," Lucian agreed.

"Contrary to popular belief, Arngrim was not a king of dragons or gods, but he knew a few kings in his time. One of his comrades in the legendary battle following the destruction of Dipan was an ageless man who became known as the Saint King. The story of how exactly he came upon eternal youth is another tale altogether, and I don't even know for certain which country it is he is supposed to rule. It's just more proof that this story is fiction, you think? I mean, what country do you know of where the king is fair, kind, compassionate, eternally young, and handsome to boot? He would have to be a god, and I really doubt that Odin fits those descriptions."

"I doubt any gods do," Lucian sighed. "Otherwise they wouldn't allow people to suffer so much…"

Aeila groaned, once again veering the conversation away from that subject. "Well, apparently the Saint King was that sort of ruler, or at least that's what the story says.

Anyway, so… getting to the _point_ of all of this; the Saint King was very deeply in love with the princess of Dipan, but she died valiantly in Arngrim's great battle in which he won the dragon orb. Once again, that's an entirely different story."

"You should tell me the rest of these later," Lucian suggested, "but go on."

Aeila gladly did so. "The Saint King, they say that he reigns over the land never aging, always watching for the return of his beloved's soul, and yet never reaching out to her." At this point, her voice became more theatric and whimsical as her mother's (if the woman who she vaguely remembered was, in fact, her mother), would. "He watches and watches, always wanting only her and yet never going out to find her. He lives unmarried despite his countless admirers, without loving a single woman for thousands of years."

"Sad," Lucian noted flatly.

"Come on, Lucian!" Aeila cried and slapped him on the back. "Don't be so naïve. That's another sign that this story is bull shit. I mean, what kind of man would go for a thousand years without getting any ass? If you ask me, maybe he just wasn't interested in women and came up with this whole yarn to cover up the fact--anyway, wasn't I telling a story? Stories don't have to be true, they have messages and crap."

"I suppose not," Lucian groaned.

"So you have the Saint King, this pitiable character who sits on high watching over his love. She gets reborn over and over, living lives as all of us live. There are little anecdotes about her various lives, but I don't really remember them and they're probably unimportant anyway. What's important is that he watches her fall in love countless times, but never with him. He watches her bear children for other men and grow old with them and die. Over and over, he tortures himself this way, watching her happiness and never partaking in it."

Lucian began to get absorbed in the tragic story, hanging on Aelia's words. "…And?"

Aeila threw her arms up. "And that's all!" she answered. "He never gets the girl. It's a ridiculous story, I told you it was."

Lucian grimaced. "I don't remember you telling me that…" He gave a heavy sigh. "So, is there some moral to that story?"

"I don't know," she said. "I mean, why would anyone do that to themselves? Well… they say that the gods are unable to feel, and so perhaps eternity wouldn't affect them. But maybe... that is, if you buy any of this--which I don't-- the only thing that a person possessing eternal youth rather than true god-dom can ever love is an undying memory."

"Undying memories…" Lucian looked ahead to the horizon.

"Everything else dies. Everything else is transitory. He loves the girl forever, and she loves others forever through the cycle of rebirth. Maybe the girl represents humanity in these times when the gods seem so silent. Maybe it's just a stupid bedtime story. I don't know. It's well known that Arngrim liked to screw with people, and his stories always ended on a bad note like that."

"Really…?"

Aeila was silent for a moment, and then began to laugh. "It is funny what people do with stories though, isn't it?" she pointed out. "This ridiculously depressing tale became popular, probably because everyone wishes for a kind, just, and morally grounded king--which again, doesn't exist. Young girls would fancy themselves the reincarnation of that princess and dream that the Saint King would come to woo them one day--which rather defeats the point of the whole damn story, doesn't it?"

"I suppose stories need to end badly once in a while," Lucian sighed. "If everyone always got what they wanted, then it would be dull and predictable."

"Right," Aeila agreed with a laugh. "But most people, they just want their happy ending. That is why _Alicia_ is such a popular name for girls even in our day and age." She stopped and began to wonder, her own mind floating off to that poor deceased girl. "I wonder if Alicia knew that story or if her parents knew of it."

"I have no idea," Lucian said in an airy voice.

"Oh!" Aeila once again snapped him out of his daydream. "There is another version of the tale, before I forget."

"Really?" Lucian said, far more interested in the alternate tale than Aeila would have expected.

"Yeah," she answered. "In this one, they say that none of the girl's mortal loves were ever as true as her love for him. They say she would pine eternally for something that was not there, an amazing love that she possessed only for a moment and could never grasp again. She is unaware of him watching her, and he is unaware of her longing for him. He watches her until the end of time, and only then are the two reunited."

"That version is slightly better," Lucian admitted with a bitter laugh. "So… the king exists in two worlds, one where he's alone forever, and one where he is reunited with her in death…" Aeila watched him as he considered that for a moment in silence. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could have another tale that ended slightly happier, just like that fictional king?" He turned his head and looked at Aeila in deep concentration. "Do you suppose that it would let us rest at ease if we knew of it?"

Aeila backed away, driving her horse back to the other side. "It's just a story," she laughed, but the laughter was forced. His words made her extremely uncomfortable. "Don't take it so seriously."

(2)

_I can't hear anything! _

Hrist wished that Mystina would remain silent. Ever since being integral to the developments in Crell Monterfrainge, she had been extremely active. Hrist was pleased that her einherjar were treating this matter with such seriousness, but she wished that they—Mystina in particular—would refrain from talking so much while she was in this pure light form. It was extremely distracting.

She flew over the fields between Crell Monterfrainge and Flenceburg, behind trees and clouds when they were available. Otherwise, she had to hang back a distance to be certain that she wouldn't be spotted. A violet spark of light in the sky would be noticeable.

_I wonder how Lord Rufus is doing?_

_I wonder if he's really looking for a cure for Fortuna…_

_Next time we see Janus, I bet he'll have battle stories for us!_

_Why are we even following them anymore? Let's just go straight there!_

Hrist sometimes had trouble determining whose voice was whose, and right now it didn't matter. Floating about without a body was unsettling. The difficulty wasn't the problem so much as her fears. Probably unfounded, she thought. Even if Freya would keep it from her, Rufus would tell her if there was any danger of using these powers.

No, the real reason was that it caused those fuzzy memories in her mind to focus, and that made things too clear for her to bear. She had done something terrible. She could not remember if it was by ax or guillotine, but someone's head had gone rolling, that was undeniable.

_They're stopping for the night,_ Alicia pointed out. _Shall we rest?_

Did Alicia sense that she was weary? Hrist decided to heed this suggestion and the bright light which none of the mercenaries had noticed pursuing the small caravan dropped into a patch of trees. Hrist's body took physical form there well-hidden.

"All of you are to remain silent while I am in flight," Hrist chided her einherjar.

_Oh, did we disrupt your concentration?_ Mystina teased her. Hrist's anger flared at her triggering a violent chain reaction, rustling each of her einherjar out of their peaceful places within her in turn. Hrist forced herself to grow calm again.

"Tomorrow we will continue along this route," she said, ignoring Mystina. "Rest while you still can."

(3)

The next day dragged on much as the last. Aeila was so restless by the afternoon that even pestering Lucian could not keep her occupied.

She thought it was a mirage when she saw a group of men standing on the horizon. With a wary wave, she called for the caravan to hold and turned to Lucian. "Tell Kashell that we have company," she said, and took off without further discussion.

"Wait!" she heard Lucian cry. "It could be dangerous!" but she was not about to listen to an amateur mercenary's warning. Of _course_ it could be dangerous--that was sort of the whole point. She grasped her lance in position to defend herself on horseback and rode towards the visitors.

There were five of them, and four looked like soldiers. The fifth was an older man dressed in dark cleric's robes. A mage with an entourage of soldiers is what it looked like, and that was not any typical traveler's party.

"State your business!" she demanded, circling cautiously around the group.

The tails of the old man's mustache perked as he grinned. "Business?" he chuckled. "Why, I've come for you, dearie."

"What?" Aeila spat.

Kashell's voice shouted out to her. "Aeila!" he yelled. He was riding from the caravan he was supposed to be guarding, which Aeila could have punched him for. It was Lucian's horse. He must have pulled the kid off of it and left him with Celia. "Your horse, get off!" he shouted. "Now!"

Aeila looked down and saw the edges of what he must have been able to see clearly from afar—the horse's flesh was aglow with strange runes. It began to bray and kick as if it too had only now noticed the spell being cast upon it. She felt it shuddering and convulsing underneath her and decided to take Kashell's suggestion.

She leapt from her mount, bruising herself against the ground. No sooner had she than her poor horse burst like a fruit left out in the sun. The mage laughed as Kashell swung his sword over his head and his soldiers interfered in his advancement.

Aeila drug herself off the ground and found the carnal remains of her steed spread across the field, twitching. She wiped the blood on her hands on the grass, paying no attention to that which had splayed across her body, and took a firm grasp of her lance.

She saw that Kashell had an advantage being mounted, but he ran a risk of getting the merchant's horse killed, and that was not going to fly well with their employers. She joined Kashell in the fight, expecting these soldiers to be no more than bandits dressed up in armor for appearance's sake. This assumption was proven incorrect as the four men began to display their expertise. Not a group hired for brawn alone, obviously, and yet their markings were not of any town or nation. That they were a cult of some kind formed around this mage seemed the most logical conclusion; and he was obviously a man of incredible skill in his own right. He could have easily targeted her with that spell, but it seemed that he wanted her alive.

The same did not hold true for Kashell, however. She saw the old man raise his hands to summon power, and the flicker of ominous light at the hooves of her friend's horse was a dead giveaway as to what he was targeting.

"No you don't!" she shouted and swung her lance. The magician's spell was interrupted, but all that her blade struck was grass and dirt. The old man was definitely spry enough for this job; he leapt out of her range.

And all of this had been a rouse to draw her between a pair of his soldiers who held chains and chain-link nets. "You have got to be joking!" she growled. "Do you honestly think that you can tame me?" She swung her lance like a scythe, cutting through the tall grass all around her and knocking away the netting thrown at her. One of the chains weighted with iron balls caught on her weapon but she paid no mind to that.

Celia and Lucian came running in now, swords held high. "Stay back!" she shouted to them. Celia should have known better. Under normal circumstances, Celia was their thinker and their strategist, the most level-headed.

"Damn it!" Kashell growled as he swung at the largest of the soldiers, making a strenuous effort to protect his horse. "Who in the Hel are these guys?" His adversary had sustained heavy injury at the end of his blade, and yet still fought as if he had boundless strength and energy.

_We could really have used Lemia here_, Aeila thought to herself bitterly.

In the time that they were forced to dilly-dally with the fighters, their leader from the back managed to cast a spell. It was not as complex in design as that which had blown Aeila's horse apart, but it was nearly as effective. A rain of spectral blades throbbing with black energy rained down from above. Aelia could hear it reflecting off of the armor that Lucian wore, which was a good sign, but her millisecond of relief was ruined when she heard Celia cry out.

"Celia!" Kashell shouted. As Aeila could have predicted, he abandoned his assault and galloped for his dearest friend. Aeila was distracted from her fight as well, but saw that Celia was still breathing at least. That was all the reassurance she could afford for herself at the moment.

Kashell dismounted his horse, which was spooked and almost useless now in any case. It was no war horse, to be sure. He scooped Celia from the ground and examined her wounds. A blade had struck her in the chest. It was of magical origin and did not penetrate her flesh deeply enough to be fatal. He squeezed her tightly, forgetting that this was most likely not helpful. "Thank the gods you've got that pure heart," he laughed, though it sounded closer to crying.

"My resistance to magic… is pretty strong," she replied, croaking the words. Then she rapped against his shoulder weakly. "Why aren't you helping them?"

"I, uh…" he looked up just in time to see Lucian run his blade through one of their enemies. "Way to go!" he cheered and leapt up with his sword in hand again. "Take it easy, Celia," he said to her, and rejoined the battle.

"We've lost one fighter each," Lucian said in heavy breaths as Kashell took his stance at his back. "They outnumber us, and that mage could decide to finish off Celia at any time if she is immobilized…"

"There isn't any time to talk about this!" Kashell shouted, and began to hack and slash at another of their men. "Just kill them!"

"Why don't you take your own damned advice!" Aeila spat at them from where she stood, fighting against two of them. She barked furiously. "Stop worrying about your girlfriend and kill this damned infernal mage already!"

Flame ripped through the fields as another spell was cast. This time the sound of the old man's cackling laughter was an overture to the blast. Fire shot up from the ground, catching the grasses aflame. Aeila heard Kashell screaming various expletives as the fire licked him. Lucian was surprisingly calm, she noticed. Perhaps he had seen more battles than she had given him credit for.

Celia limped to her feet, and despite the agonizing pain that she was in, reached out to calm the horse Kashell abandoned. She mounted it and rode back to the caravan. _Good girl_, Aeila thought. Those flames were dancing dangerously close to the line of wagons, and someone needed to make sure that there wouldn't be an attack on their employers while they were preoccupied.

Aeila's relief was short-lived as another chain caught, this time catching on the armor around her forearm. She tugged at it, pulling the man holding the other end along a few steps with her admirable strength; but she could not pull free without dropping her weapon to unwind the chain.

"Aeila!" Kashell shouted. He ran and chopped his massive blade at the chain with all of his strength in an attempt to wrest it from the hands of their attackers, but was repelled when a surge ripped of energy through the metal links. They sparked with blue and green veins of power. He went flying with a grunt while Aeila screamed. Her piercing voice wavered between that of a woman and a beast.

And above all this, the wicked mage's triumphant laughter rose. "Yes, roar as loud as you can, guardian beast!"

Kashel sputtered and choked for breath as Lucian ran to give him a hand. They became paralyzed amidst the flames in awe and horror at the sight before them. Aeila's body twisted and morphed between two figures, the girl that they knew and a terrible creature with horns and twisted fangs. The chains stretched as her size and shape fluctuated, but held.

"What's happening to her?" Lucian shouted over the unbelievable noise roaring and rumbling like continuous thunder. He sprang forward to strike at the mage responsible, but Kashell caught him by the waist and held him back.

"No!" he yelled, even his loud voice too weak to carry in this fray. "It would kill the likes of you or me! Aeila is—!"

Aeila was no longer in control of her body. She saw light and heard noise, and it infuriated her. She pulled at her bonds but they held, and her body burned with that magic being channeled into it. She was faintly aware of Kashell and Lucian shouting to one another, but the words did not reach her. Nor could she make out what was being said as a magic field opened beneath her. A crest formed on the ground and began to shimmer and sparkle gold with light. She felt herself fading from consciousness as well as from the physical plane.

Kashell and Lucian watched helplessly as Aeila flickered from sight, along with her captors and the magician who led them. They stood speechless in the field, flames dying around them, until the silence of a day which should have been uneventful reclaimed the caravan. The only difference to say that anything had happened at all was a scorched patch of grass, a mutilated horse, and the absence of yet another of their dear friends.

Kashell shouted and thrust his sword into the ground and then knelt beside it. Lucian stood unmoving, gripping his tightly as the wind blew gently across them.

- - -

_They've taken Aeila! _Lemia whimpered.

"I know that," Hrist replied calmly. "This is none of our concern."

_Aeila is our friend!_ Alicia joined in. _We can't just leave her to that lunatic's devices!_

"She is a mortal and we are gods," Hrist replied. "Think only as einherjar must think and do not concern yourself with the fates of mortals."

A flash of something strange from Alicia came then. Anger, frustration, disdain-- everything that Hrist would not have associated with her, all of it came rushing out of the meek girl, and all of it was directed towards her. _We aren't just your puppet soldiers! _she scolded the valkyrie.

"I _know_ that," Hrist answered. Her voice roiled with anger. To be lectured by her own einherjar was demeaning, and yet she allowed it because she agreed.

_Aeila was your friend too_, Lemia said. From her there were no negative thoughts, only compassion.

"We must follow Lucian, he is the key to locating Lenneth."

_Whatever!_ Mystina barked. _We've got a pretty good idea where she could be, let's just go there!_

"I will not tolerate impatience."

For that she received a huff, a splutter of lips. Her einherjar definitely required discipline. Now was not the time for that, however.

She floated in the air above the caravan. Night had fallen and her figure was invisible against the dark sky. As she looked down at those below, small ants from this height, nostalgia became an oppressive force. Kashell was tending to Celia, whose wounds were worsening. She needed to see a doctor. To see the way that he so affectionately cared for her made her feel strange. It gave her some kind of fulfillment to know that neither of them was alone.

Lucian emerged from the cart and joined them on the grass where Celia laid with her head resting on Kashell's thigh. He stood up straight and seemed intent on something.

"I have to go," he said. "I want to help you find Aeila, I really do… but…"

"No need to explain," Kashell answered. "Your girl is in the same situation, and at least you know where to look for her." He grinned. "Go on. Aeila would punch you if she found out you passed up a chance to find your girlfriend to rescue her. She's not the type who likes to be rescued."

Lucian turned his head and looked sadly at Kashell's companion. "Will Celia be all right?"

"That sort of attack leaves a nasty curse, but as long as she sees a healer within a few days, it'll be no problem." He sighed and looked up at the sky. "Her vomiting and fever are due to the shock, not the wound. We have lost quite a few of our own recently. She… is not dealing well with the stress."

"How do you stay the way you are?" Lucian asked. "How do you keep from breaking?"

Kashell shrugged. "I know she needs me, so I can't," he said. "Besides, I'm sure my friends are partying in Valhalla right about now."

"I wonder if the gods really watch over this world," Lucian muttered.

Hrist wondered how he would like the world if the gods were involved in its shaping. Was that barren town any indication? How foolish for a mortal to speak as if he had any knowledge of what might have been—how ungrateful.

She watched as Lucian broke off from the caravan and disappeared into the forest. "I am sorry for Aeila, but my mission is clear," she said to her einherjar. All of her voices were silent.

The one that spoke up was not one of her own.

_Hrist_, came the voice of Freya. _I want you to follow that mage._

Hrist scowled as Freya reached her through the power of Sacred Phase. "I do not believe that is wise," she answered. "Lenneth's whereabouts are at stake."

_If you believe her to be in flenceburg, then level the city and be done with it_, Freya said in a tired voice. _I know that you no longer condone the use of such methods, no matter how efficient, and so I will not order you to do such a thing._

"Will not, or cannot?" Hrist replied. "Stealing a sacred treasure and cultivating souls for battle—these things Rufus may forgive you for so long as long-term damage is avoided, but the destruction of a human city? Would that push even his weak spirit to fight against you?"

_Do not question me! _Freya's voice answered in a great boom. Hrist was shocked at this tone. It was more filled with emotion that Freya would have ever liked to admit. She had struck a cord. _We have… taken heavy losses. _Her voice was soft then, close to sympathy.

"What?" Hrist replied. She instantly thought of Belanus and Janus and chided herself for it.

_There was a battle against the Vanir on the outskirts of their territory_, she explained. _We were victorious and their advance was halted, but our numbers have suffered. We desperately need more einherjar._

"So why follow this disdainful mage?"

_He has come to our attention in the past. His name is Gandar and he seeks the Dragon Orb._

"And do you as well?"

_I understand that you have reason to distrust me. More reason than you know. But please—you must execute this heretic in the interests of Midgard, and then salvage his soul. His power would be a much-needed weapon against the Vanir. _

"I do not make a practice of executing the einherjar I collect," she argued, "and I do not see how I can house such a despicable soul inside of me."

_This order is not my whim_, she replied. _It comes directly from the King of Asgard. _Now her tone was sarcastic and bitter.

Hrist could not understand. "Rufus? How could he justify such an action?"

_Because_, Freya explained. There was heavy annoyance in her voice. _A representative of Midgard will be involved in this mission._

"What?"

_Go to the north. You should find a hidden fortress nestled in the mountains there. A human will meet you. That is all the information I have._

Without any sort of fare thee well, Freya's presence was suddenly gone.

Alicia's voice piped up in her place. _What was that?_

"Lord Rufus bids we find the girl," Hrist said. "Let us pick up the trail of her abductors before it grows cold."

- -

"And now the goddess of death comes to bid me farewell…"

Hrist scowled. "If you can see me, then certainly you must know that your body is—"

"I'm not going to die here!" she spouted. "Be gone with you!"

- -

_Hrist. That man would make an incredibly effective Einherjar._

Hirst turned and took a step firmly towards the source of Freya's incorporeal voice, causing her armor to shake. "Lady Freya, you cannot condone his actions! He is a heretic who sought the Dragon Orb—"

"The Dragon Orb rightfully belongs to us. It was stolen away and hidden in Midgard. We allowed this under Lord Rufus's new law, in order to protect the stability of Midgard. It does not matter what offenses he committed to his fellow humans. Their lives are transitory. A mage of his caliber could turn the tide of the war. We have taken heavy losses, Hrist. Send him _immediately_."

- -

The man tilted his head back and laughed uproariously. "What is that stupid kid doing? If Freya was able to convince him that he needs a valkyrie to fight his battles, things really must be bad."

"What of you?" Hrist scowled. "Why do you evade your duty to the gods? Are you a coward?"

"I've played that game and lost, sweetheart," he replied with a chuckle.

Hrist prickled up and clenched her fists in anger. "If you dare address me by any name save for Valkyrie, I shall cut out your tongue and render you speechless all together!"

His eyes narrowed and her stared at her. "How about _Hrist_?" he said.


End file.
